


Not Quite According to Plan

by Phlinting



Series: A Spark of Hope and the Butterfly Effect [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Peter Hale, BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Fix-It, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Time Travel, Warning: Kate Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phlinting/pseuds/Phlinting
Summary: It's been eleven years since Scott was bitten by a feral werewolf and, despite his pack's many victories along the way, Gerard Argent's influence lives on. As the knowledge of the supernatural spread to the general population so did the hatred and fear of the unknown. The McCall pack has been picked off one by one and Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski, and Peter Hale are the only three left, on the run and barely surviving.But Stiles has found a spell. He has the magic, the spark, and his belief. He has his dad and Peter to help power it and he has the will and desperation to succeed.He's going back to the Hale fire and this time he's going to stop it ALL before it starts.It's the perfect solution. Too bad things never go quite according to plan...
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Sheriff Stilinski
Series: A Spark of Hope and the Butterfly Effect [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041633
Comments: 297
Kudos: 1004





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Everyone!  
> This story started as an idle thought, grew into a nagging ache, and has now been bugging me for months, so I gave in and wrote it down. Of course that's when I realized it's going to be longer than the short story I was hoping and it now has the potential to take over my life.  
> Yeah, talking about things not going quite to plan...  
> Anyway, I've got the first three chapters written and I'm hoping to add a few thousand words each day. At this stage I have no idea where it's actually going to end so I guess we'll know when we get there.

CHAPTER ONE

"What are you doing, kid?"

The question was asked tiredly, the words of a man beaten down by everything that had happened in the past few years.

Stiles gave his dad a smile that he knew looked far from genuine, but the lie on his tongue didn't make it to his lips. He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.

"Stiles?" his dad asked, stepping into the room and no doubt using the observational skills he'd learned as a sheriff to understand exactly what Stiles was planning. Well, maybe not _exactly_ what he was planning since the spell he'd found was supposedly impossible and probably a myth. The penciled comments clearly made decades after the grimoire was written certainly wrote the thing off as some sort of sick joke.

But if there was ever a time they needed the impossible to work, now was it.

"Kid, we need to keep moving." Noah Stilinski glanced around the room again. It was dusty and cluttered, but it held a bed—currently occupied by a severely injured werewolf—and was located in the most defensible part of the building.

They'd found the abandoned farm house only a few days ago and had stopped to rest and hopefully give Peter a chance to recover, but if the past couple years had taught them anything it was that staying in the same place too long always proved deadly. The missing members of their pack were very tangible reminders of that fact. "Unless the spell you're planning is going to help Peter heal more quickly, we don't have time. We've already stayed here too long."

"Dad, how long can we keep running?"

"As long as we have to," Noah said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Stiles swallowed painfully. "They're all dead." The weight of it pressed him down even more now that he'd finally said the words out loud.

"And we're _not_ dead," his dad said fiercely, the growl in his words low enough to make a werewolf proud. "We just need to keep moving."

"Dad, we can't. It took Peter six years and an alpha spark to recover last time. He's not going to survive this one."

Noah opened his mouth to argue but no words came out. He shook his head, blinking back the tears of frustration Stiles knew he was too proud to let fall. "We just need t…" He let his words trail away, his shoulders slumping as he crossed the room and dropped onto the ratty sofa next to Stiles. He rubbed a hand over his face, regaining his composure, and then turned toward Stiles and nodded at the grimoire he had open on his lap. "What have you found?"

Stiles shrugged. "Something that probably won't work."

"But it's worth trying?" his dad asked, ever the practical voice in any argument.

"Yeah," Stiles said, giving his Dad a grim smile. "We don't have half the ingredients but my spark can handle a few substitutes."

Noah nodded, no longer needing to question Stiles abilities. They'd been through way too much the past few years. They both knew their own and each others strengths and weaknesses very well.

"But we need to do it before Peter dies."

"Aw, kid," Noah said tiredly. "It's one of those spells?"

"Yeah, the three Ws," Stiles admitted sadly.

"A witch, a warrior, and a werewolf," Noah said with a soft, sad laugh.

Stiles smiled at the silly acronym Isaac had given to spells where Stiles spark needed to harvest power from the people around him.

"It'll leave us vulnerable," Stiles admitted. "If it doesn't work."

"For how long?" Noah asked, already moving to check his weaponry and ammunition stores.

"Long enough for them to find us."

Noah swallowed but his voice remained steady. "And if it does work?"

"Then none of this will have ever happened."

~*~

"Time travel?" Peter asked, desperately trying to fight through the pain and force the words past his burned throat. He'd been fading in and out of consciousness for days now, but he was pretty sure he'd understood the conversation between father and son.

"Yeah," Stiles admitted. "Time travel. If I do it right it will drop my consciousness and my current memories into my younger self."

"How far?" Peter asked, hoping like hell Stiles or Noah could understand him.

"Hopefully back to before your family was burned alive," Stiles said, glancing guiltily at his dad.

"Stiles," Noah said in a tone none of them had heard in a long while. "You were _nine_ when the Hales died."

"Imagine how much easier it'll be to raise me when I have the memories and experiences of my twenty-six-year-old self."

"That's not funny, Stiles," Noah growled. Peter would have echoed the sentiment if he'd been able to make his voice work properly.

"Dad," Stiles said, sounding more serious. "I can save a lot of lives. And not just the Hale family." He stood up and started moving around the room, flailing his arms the way he'd done when Peter had first met him. "If I can stop Kate Argent, I save Scott and Isaac and Derek and Malia and Chris and Lydia and Kira." He stopped and swallowed hard. "Dad, I can save Allison. I can trap the nogitsune before it forces me to bomb the sheriff's office and stop the darach before she sacrifices anyone. Derek will never be an alpha so he won't turn Jackson and there won't be a giant lizard for Gerard Argent to control. Peter won't kill his niece, won't turn Scott, won't go insane—"

"Stiles," Noah said, cutting short what promised to be one of Stile's epic rambles. He reached for his son and dragged him into a fierce hug. "You can't go that far back. You were _nine_ and I was a lousy drunk and a useless father."

"Dad," Stiles said softly, the sound both entreaty and a reprimand. "You were grieving."

"So were you," Noah said, his voice tight with his regret.

"We made it through." Stiles nodded against his dad's shoulder, returning his embrace. "And we will again. I promise you." He moved away from his father and turned his attention to Peter. "If this doesn't work—"

Peter forced sound through his lips before Stiles could finish. He already knew what the young man was going to say. Spells like the one he planned took a whole lot of energy, which was something Peter had very little of left. But thanks to the aerosolized wolfsbane included in the firetrap the hunters had used in their attempt to kill him three days ago his chances of recovery were pretty much nil anyway. Either way he was a dead man. "Do it," he said breathlessly. He saw the resigned expression on Noah's face and tried to convey his sympathy with his thoughts. Yeah, that probably didn't work.

"Do you have everything you need?" Noah asked, taking charge again, shoving down his own emotions to deal with the situation at hand the way he'd been doing since this nightmare had begun.

"Everything except the 'essence of blue remorse.'" Stiles turned to Peter and gave him a what-can-you-do shrug. "Sorry, Peter, I need you to bleed for this one."

"Of course," he said, aiming for the sarcasm he'd once taken for granted and imagining he'd hit the mark. More likely his words had been barely loud enough to be heard by human ears. "Let's just get this done."

"Okay," Stiles said, forcing confidence into his voice even though both men with him knew him well enough to know he was nervous as hell. The young man grabbed a ceremonial dagger and plunged it into Peter's chest before either of them could change their minds. "See you on the other side."

"Yeah," Peter said, coughing weakly. "And Stiles?"

The man Peter had met as a gangly, overactive teenager more than a decade ago glanced up from where Peter's blood flowed into an old coffee cup. (And if that wasn't the ultimate indignity he didn't know what was.)

"Thank you for doing this." Peter glanced at Noah and tried to convey his gratitude to him as well. "If my younger self doesn't believe you, remind me that I'm the reason for Derek's blue eyes."

"Yeah," Stiles said with a soft laugh. "You're going to _love_ hearing that from a nine-year-old."

Peter grinned. The kid was probably right.

~*~

Noah watched helplessly as his son prepared the rest of the ingredients needed for a spell that had a very slim chance of success. Peter's wound continued to bleed long after a werewolf should have healed and it was pretty obvious he was doing it on purpose. The stubborn expression on his face was hard to misinterpret. Peter intended to bleed out and if the spell didn't work, he expected Noah to get Stiles as far away as possible as fast as he could and to leave Peter behind.

It was a hell of a choice—and one they'd all been grateful not to have to make in the past—but it was the only one Noah had left.

Glancing at Stiles to make sure he was still absorbed in his preparations Noah reached over to grasp Peter's hand. He nodded in understanding and Peter breathed out a soft sigh of relief.

They really needed this spell to work.

"Okay," Stiles said, moving closer to the bed so that he could lift Noah's hand onto his left shoulder and Peter's onto his right. Noah had only been involved in spells like this one a couple of times—werewolves were better suited to this type of energy harvest thanks to their healing abilities—but he knew enough to curl his hand over the side of his son's throat, his thumb resting at the base of his skull and his fingers meeting Peter's at the front. Noah shifted slightly so that he could press his other hand over Peter's to help him hold it in place. Stiles didn't bother saying the words out loud—he never did—but the room's atmosphere almost immediately began to shift, the air swirling around them despite the room's lack of windows.

Noah felt his hair lift away from his head, the strange ionized air leaving him feeling breathless and fearful even as he closed his eyes and accepted his fate. If this time travel spell did work he'd have no memory of this fucked up timeline.

He hated that his son—his incredibly talented, endlessly brave, magical child—would forever carry that burden alone.

Fuck, he really hoped he was a better father the second time around.

~*~

Peter was dying. He'd known that almost from the moment the aerosolized wolfsbane had hit his lungs and fire had immediately followed. It was his third time burned—fourth if he counted the time he'd escaped the wild hunt—and he couldn't help but wonder if it was a taste of what waited for him beyond. He wasn't a particularly religious man but he'd spent the first half of his life being lectured by a frustratingly enigmatic druid on the necessity of balance.

He'd done so many things wrong since losing his family that he barely felt worthy of the gift Stiles was trying to give him. Knowing that Stiles alone would carry the burden of memories from this world made Peter feel even worse.

If anyone deserved that sort of torture, surely it was Peter.

"Yes, Peter Hale," a strangely musical voice sang, the sound seeming to come both from outside his mind and from within, "I think you may be right."


	2. Chapter 2

Peter gasped harshly, dragging in a deep breath as he bolted upright and tried to get his bearings.

The room was vaguely familiar, the scents barely remembered, and the sound of so many nearby heartbeats damn near terrifying, but it was the woman who walked into the room that convinced him that he really was dead this time.

"Tal?"

"Everything okay?" his sister asked, moving to sit on the edge of the bed as Peter tried to calm his frantic heartbeat.

"Yeah," he said eventually. "Weird dream."

"Well that's what you get for sleeping in," she said, running her hand over his head, scenting him the way she used to when he'd been just a pup. There was such a huge difference in age that she'd more often filled the role of mother rather than older sister in his younger life. "Come on. You need to be on the road within the hour if you want to avoid the rush-hour traffic."

"Oh, ah, okay," he said, glancing around the room, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Maybe endless traffic jams meant he really had been cast into hell.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Talia asked, running her hand over his head one more time. "You seem completely disoriented."

"Just…um…trying to get my bearings."

"Have you been hitting the wolfsbane whiskey again?"

"Uh, maybe," he said, wondering if that was why his head was aching so damn much. "Probably."

"Peter," she said using her alpha tone to chide him, "I know how much you hate having visitors, but they'll only be here two nights. Besides, for family, they're not that bad."

"Family?" Peter scoffed. "They're second cousins… Twice removed. They're barely a twig on the outer edge of the family tree." He had no idea where the words were coming from but the conversation was giving him a déjà vu feeling. "Why do we need to collect them from the airport anyway? Can't they just catch a cab?"

Talia rolled her eyes. "Up, now," she said, her tone very clearly that of his alpha no longer willing to listen to his excuses. "The kids will be awake soon and I have way too much to do today to waste time listening to you."

It was strange how much that sentence stung. It had been said lightly and in reference to their current conversation, but Talia had stopped listening to him a long time ago. They'd argued over pack security for years before the fire had proven Peter right.

"What day is it?" he asked, suddenly fearful that he really was in hell.

"The day you get out of bed, collect our cousins from the airport, and come home to enjoy the yearly family reunion. Now move!"

"Fam…" His throat tightened and he couldn't force the words out. Family reunion? _That_ family reunion?"

"Oh, and don't worry about collecting Derek from basketball practice this afternoon. Laura has an assignment due so she's going to work in the library until he's finished."

Talia was gone before he could react, the déjà vu sensation overwhelming Peter to the point of nausea. He made it to his bathroom just in time to empty his stomach.

~*~

Noah groaned as he lifted his head off the table, blinking tiredly as he tried to bring his eyes into focus.

Where the hell was he?

"Mornin', Daddio," a young child said, nudging a cup of coffee toward his elbow. "You really need to stop working through the night."

"Stiles?" Noah mumbled, working his tongue and lips in a desperate attempt to get moisture into his mouth.

"That's what they call me," Stiles said, rummaging through a Star Wars backpack without looking up at Noah. "Breakfast is on the table. Eggs and fruit."

"No bacon?" Noah asked, following the script of every conversation he'd ever had with Stiles since the kid had decided he needed a heart-healthy diet.

"It's not Sunday," Stiles said, pointing at his back pack before dragging it onto his shoulders. "As evidenced by the fact that I am taking my smart little a—smart little _butt_ to school to learn all the things."

"All the things?" Noah asked as it finally occurred to him that he was very likely dreaming of simpler times in the last few moments of his life. It meant that Stiles's spell hadn't worked and the hunters had found them before they'd been able to recover enough to defend themselves.

It was a shitty end but at least he got to see his son one last time.

"Stiles," he called as the kid opened the front door on his way to the bus stop, most likely to meet Scott.

"Yeah, Daddio," he said, turning to give Noah his full attention.

"I love you, kiddo."

Stiles rolled his eyes as if the words were an embarrassment, but when he hurried back into the room and wrapped his skinny arms around Noah's waist they were shaking with emotion.

"I know I never told you often enough," Noah said, not bothering to blink back the tears that filled his eyes, "but you are and always will be the most important thing in my life."

"Love you, Dad," Stiles said, squeezing Noah one more time before stepping back and giving him a cheeky grin. "But you're still not getting bacon until Sunday."

Noah laughed as Stiles turned and ran out the door.

His kid.

~*~

Panic was starting to filter into Peter's mind.

It was the day of the fire.

The day that destroyed everything. The day that he lost his family, his pack, and his sanity. The day he was burned and abandoned and left to rot by his new alpha and the nephew he'd been closer to than his own siblings.

Was he destined to live the day over and over again?

Was that his punishment for killing Laura?

His gut revolted and he heaved into the toilet again, his empty stomach clenching painfully.

"Uncle Peter?" Derek called through the closed door. "Are you all right?"

"No," he growled, tears burning at the back of his throat. "No, I won't live this day over again."

"Huh?" Derek asked, opening the door and stepping into the room. "The reunion is only once a year. It'll be over before we know it." He frowned when he realized Peter was crouched over the porcelain bowl. "You been drinking that wolfsbane whiskey again?"

"Fuck off," he growled. "You're the reason they all die. You're the one who sneaked a hunter into this house and showed her the escape tunnels."

"H–Hunter?" Derek asked, backing away from Peter as he stumbled over his words. "Kate isn't a hunter."

"You goddamn moron," Peter yelled, attracting the attention of the rest of the house. "Her name is Kate _Argent_. In less than eight fucking hours she circles this house with mountain ash and sets it on fire. You and Laura will be late getting home and Kate Argent and her merry band of coconspirators will laugh from the treeline as Laura calls emergency services and you try fruitlessly to break the mountain ash line."

"K–Kate w–wouldn't do that," Derek stammered, turning to his mother to plead his case.

"Your precious Kate already did that," Peter growled viciously. "I watched my entire family die and then I spent the next six years of my life in agony, abandoned by my new alpha, and going crazy locked in my own mind."

"Peter!" Talia growled. "That's enough! I have no idea what you're—"

"You've been dead for seventeen years, Tal," Peter said, a sob lodging in his throat and making the words hard to say. "You haven't been my alpha in a very long time."

"Uncle Peter?" Cora cried, pushing through the family now crowded in the hallway just outside his bathroom. "Why are you being mean to Derek?"

"Cor," he said, holding his arms out for the innocent little girl who'd once been the niece he adored. "I'm sorry, pup. I'm so damn sorry. You spent years alone and terrified all because your idiot brother couldn't identify a hunter when his family's lives depended on it."

He knew he was being unfair to the kid. Derek had been fifteen when Kate Argent had seduced him. He hadn't even been her first victim. The woman was a manipulative pedophile who used the hunter's code to justify her penchant for torture and murder.

But if Talia had just listened to Peter when he'd warned her the pack was vulnerable maybe the kid would have been more prepared, more paranoid before it had cost him nearly his entire family.

"Mom, you don't understand," Derek was saying. "Kate loves me and she knows about werewolves. She just… She just… She wanted to see where I lived but she knew you'd catch her scent so I let her borrow my clothes. It was… It was just once."

"Wait," Laura said, "what Uncle Peter is saying is true?"

"No," Derek said, turning his glowing blue eyes on Peter. "Kate wouldn't do that. I don't know what Uncle Peter is rambling about."

"This afternoon," Peter said tiredly. "Kate probably has most of the mountain ash in place already. She's just waiting for the rest of the family to arrive before she closes the circle and sets us on fire."

"Kate… _Argent_?" Talia asked, her tone very serious.

"Yes," Peter said. "Kate Argent from the Argent family of hunters. Father Gerard. Brother Chris. Niece Allison."

"Her name isn't Argent," Derek argued naively, obviously convinced by the cover story the bitch had used. "She's a teacher at my school."

"You're having sex with a teacher?" Laura asked, inhaling sharply.

Talia growled low in her throat. "Derek, you're fifteen. How old is this woman?"

When Derek's gaze started darting back and forth between the gathered members of the pack Talia finally called a halt to her rather public interrogation. "Derek, my office. Laura gather the pups and make breakfast. The rest of you get outside and check the area for any signs of hunters or mountain ash."

The pack moved quickly to follow their alpha's orders. Cora clung stubbornly when Peter tried to set her on her feet, but a quick flash of her mother's red eyes finally got her moving.

"How do you know all of this and why didn't you bring it to me earlier?" Talia demanded once they were alone.

"I… I didn't. I mean, I didn't _know_ it. I lived it. I… Is this my punishment? To relive this day over and over no matter what I do?"

"Peter," Talia said in a calm tone, again moving to scent him the way she'd done earlier. "Is it possible you're mixing reality with the weird dream you had earlier? You were right about Derek having a girlfriend, so I'm going to take the rest of what you've said at face value, for now. I won't risk my pack's safety just because you're ranting like a mad man. But is it possible you just dreamed the rest of it?"

Peter shook his head, unsure what to say.

"I need to go out," he said, turning toward his bedroom to pull on some clothes. "I need to check something. I'll only be an hour."

"Okay," Talia agreed. "Keep your phone on you. Stay in touch."

"I will," Peter said as a weird sort of hope unfurled in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

Noah had no idea why he was still sitting in his kitchen holding a slowly cooling cup of coffee.

Being thrown back into an old memory had been a gift he'd not expected, but to be left sitting around for several more hours just didn't make any sense. Granted, he'd not really given much thought to what happened after a person died but sitting in his kitchen drinking endless cups of coffee hadn't been a blip on his radar.

And since he'd just used the last of the coffee grounds the coffee supply probably wasn't going to be endless anyway.

But he had no idea what to do. Well, except for a quick trip to the bathroom thanks to all that coffee.

The ringing of the doorbell startled him, but it was also a welcome relief to the boredom.

He didn't even bother checking the peephole, too anxious for company to care who it was.

"Peter?" he asked, pretty sure the man standing on his porch was the younger version of the man he'd known in real life.

"Thank fuck," Peter said, pushing past him and into the house. "Where's Stiles?"

"At school," Noah said automatically, still trying to reconcile the young man in front of him with the Peter Hale he'd known in real life. "How are you here?"

"I think Stiles fucked up."

Noah pushed down the irritation at the unfair criticism aimed at his son and tried to think rationally. "With the spell?"

"I think all three of us came back."

"Wait. You think this is real?"

"You don't?" Peter asked, shaking his head before Noah could answer. "I didn't think so either...at first. I thought I was destined to live my pack's last day over and over." He stilled, his face paling significantly as he apparently had another thought. "I blamed Derek. Fuck. I blamed the kid who is an innocent victim in all of this. If this is real…"

Noah reached a hand out to steady him, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. "Start at the beginning."

Peter nodded, but dropped his gaze to his hands as he spoke. "It was like déjà vu. I remember the day of the fire quite vividly. They're the last happy memories I have of my family."

Noah nodded. He remembered the day of his wife's death in pretty much the same way.

"I even had the hangover from the wolfsbane whiskey I'd been drinking the night before."

Noah tilted his head toward the half-empty bottle sitting on the table. "Me too," he admitted quietly.

Peter gave him a surprised look. Noah was pretty sure the guy knew all about his alcohol problems when Stiles had been younger, but he supposed it was probably hard to imagine when the only version of Noah he'd known was the responsible Sheriff of Beacon Hills.

"So um… Talia came to wake me and the conversation we had was exactly the same. I kept saying words I remember saying seventeen years ago and I was pretty sure I was in some sort of hell where I got to replay that day over and over." He swallowed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "But then I went off script and the whole family arrived to check why I was yelling at Derek. I told them all about Kate Argent and Derek…" Peter's words trailed away and he glanced up at Noah, guilt written very clearly on his face. "Derek confirmed he was in a sexual relationship with his substitute teacher."

"So you've already changed the future?"

"I think so," Peter admitted. "When I left the house Talia was talking to Derek privately and the rest of the family was searching the grounds for hunters and mountain ash."

"And you're sure today is the day?"

Peter pulled his phone from his back pocket apparently to check the date. "Yeah," he said turning it around to show Noah. "The fire would have started around seven hours from now."

"Okay," Noah said, running possible legal scenarios through his mind. If they really were in the past he wanted to stick to law and not compromise his position as Sher— "Damn it, I'm not the Sheriff yet."

"But you're a deputy," Peter said, nodding at the crumpled uniform that Noah had apparently slept in slumped over the table. "What do you need to arrest a substitute teacher for sexual assault of a student?"

"Derek," Noah said, trying to imagine the intense young man—who'd loved Noah's son enough to die protecting him—as an innocent high school student being abused by a person in a position of trust. He'd been the naïve young werewolf targeted by an experienced hunter and no one had noticed. Not the other teachers at the school or the pack that surrounded him. "Call Talia. Explain how urgent it is that we speak to Derek. We can't let Kate escape. If she thinks we're onto her, she'll disappear into the crowd."

"She will," Peter agreed, his voice cracking with the words. He was probably remembering how many times the evil woman tried to destroy what was left of his family. "And she'll come back when we least expect her."

Noah nodded as he turned to retrieve his gun from the safe. Knowing the future wasn't going to help them one damn bit once they started changing things. He'd never had much time for science fiction stories, but he was pretty sure that the "butterfly effect" of time travel was going to be a very big problem for them.

"Talia and Derek are going to meet us at the Sheriff's office," Peter said, closing his flip phone with a satisfying snap. "She was curious to know why I would trust a human sheriff's deputy enough to just drop by his home and reveal family traumas, so I may have planted the idea that we've been dating on and off the past couple months."

"Of course you did," Noah said, shaking his head to hide the way he didn't entirely hate the idea. In this timeline he'd only recently lost his wife to a disease that destroyed her mind long before it took her body, but in his reality he'd lived nearly twice as many years without her by his side as he had as her husband.

And Peter had been there with Noah through some of the darkest days of both their lives. That sort of shared experience had a tendency to forge a much stronger relationship than years of a happy, normal marriage ever could.

Noah didn't bother to grab his car keys, just followed Peter to his vehicle and climbed into the passenger side.

"What about Stiles?" Peter asked as he backed the car out of the driveway. "We've probably got enough time to swing by the elementary school and pick him up."

"Don't bother," Noah said, unable to hold back the tired sigh. "He probably believes he's the only one who came back to the past, so chances are he's trying to fix this by himself and never bothered going to school."

"True," Peter said, easily acknowledging what they both knew about Noah's son. "Hopefully he was already tracking Kate Argent before I fucked things up."

Noah shook his head. "You didn't fuck anything up. We'll find her and we'll have her locked away for a very long time. She won't get a chance to hurt your family."

"That won't make her father very happy."

"You're not wrong," Noah agreed. "Any chance your work as the left hand of Talia's pack included keeping tabs on hunters and their families?"

"It does now," Peter assured him with a grin that promised all sorts of things a deputy sheriff did not want to know about.

"What about the others who were involved?"

"I know where they were six years from now," Peter said grimly, "but I'll never forget their scents."

"Is that how you found them the first time?"

"Of course," Peter said, frowning at Noah for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. "I was in a coma for six years. It doesn't exactly allow for extensive research."

"I guess not," Noah agreed quietly.

It took a couple of times circling the block before Peter found a legal place to park. He'd been all for just getting a ticket—it's not like money had been a problem for him at this point in his life—but he'd somehow noticed that Noah wasn't impressed. Breaking the law just because he could afford the fine didn't make it alright.

It was interesting how quickly Noah was falling back into doing everything "by the book." It suggested that despite everything they'd been through that he'd never really been comfortable with the shadowy world of the supernatural. Of course, once the rest of the world had learned that werewolves were real, laws and proper procedure hadn't meant a god damn thing. The McCall pack had spent years trying to protect each other from the bigoted humans reacting fearfully to the unknown, but it hadn't saved them in the end.

It was almost ironic that it had been Stiles's magical abilities that the hunters had coveted the most. He'd been the target of every ambitious hunter asshole hoping to control his abilities for their own gains. They'd happily murdered—with the approval of so-called law-abiding citizens—all manner of supernatural creatures, but they'd kept Stiles abilities a secret from the rest of the world.

Noah shuddered at the plans he could only imagine the hunters had held for his son. Thank god the time travel spell had worked. Noah didn't even want to imagine what might have happened to Stiles if the hunters had found the three of them unconscious and defenseless.

At least this time around Stiles was experienced enough not to accidentally be a beacon for other supernatural creatures. It was going to be weird trying to raise a nine-year-old child with the skills and experience of a twenty-six-year-old man. But it would give them a chance to protect his abilities right from the start.

They might even be able to avoid dragging some innocent teenagers into the mess their lives had become. Noah had barely known Erica and Boyd—other than the missing persons reports he'd filed—but he understood exactly why Isaac had wanted to become a werewolf. An abusive childhood often left a victim feeling powerless, even after they were a grown adult and the abuse had long ago stopped. Noah made a mental note to investigate Isaac's situation as soon as he could. If he remembered correctly, Isaac had once suggested it had been the death of his older brother, Camden, which had started his father's cruelty.

Noah had dealt with enough abusive parents to know that sort of behavior never came out of nowhere. He'd start by checking on Camden's welfare. It was a fairly common story for a young man to join the military to escape his father's abuse. Noah had done it himself. Isaac's abuse may not have started until Camden was away, but it was possible Isaac wasn't his father's only victim.

Matt Daehler had ordered the kanima to murder the man because of an incident that had happened to him at the swim coach's hands. Yeah, there was no way a man who treated people badly enough to inspire hatred like that wasn't an abusive asshole before Camden left home.

Noah should probably check in with Scott and Melissa too. Raphael McCall's abuse wouldn't have come out of nowhere, either. Yes, the man had eventually become an ally, but he'd been a stubborn asshole who'd disagreed with just about every plan because he'd believed his experience with the FBI somehow made him more qualified. Yeah, the guy should probably answer to McEgo instead of McCall.

But thinking about Raphael McCall made him think of Jordan Parrish, and the deputies who'd been killed by the beast, and Stiles's young friend Heather, and the other people who'd been sacrificed by the darach in her mad quest for power. Which made him think of the druid who'd been— _who was_ —the emissary for the Hale pack.

"How well did you know Deaton?" he asked as they climbed out of the car.

Peter gave him a curious look. "Do I want to know how you ended up thinking about Deaton right now?"

"Not really," Noah said with a small wince, "but there’s a chance I've spent too much time with Stiles in recent years. His thought processes may or may not have rubbed off on me."

Peter raised an eyebrow, apparently unsurprised by the revelation.

"Deaton?" Noah prompted.

Peter had mentioned a time or two that he'd never really liked the guy, but the werewolf disliked most people so it didn't really set Deaton apart. "Not well," Peter answered slowly, apparently trying hard to remember specifics.

"But you trusted him?"

"Not as far as _you_ could kick him," Peter said, giving Noah his full attention now. "I wasn't even convinced the guy was actually dead."

"Same," Noah said, glancing around the area despite knowing that Peter would give him a signal if anyone was close enough to hear their conversation. It was kind of weird to realize that he trusted the werewolf in front of him absolutely despite Peter being the same man who'd torn out the throat of an assassin who'd tried to kill him _after_ Noah and Derek had caught and handcuffed the mouthless man.

Peter's ruthlessness had saved Stiles and many of the others in their pack countless times. Noah preferred to follow the law, but he was pragmaticenough to understandthat it wasn't always possible when it came to the supernatural. And it hadn't even been a choice once the country's laws had been deemed to only protect the humans who'd made them.

"Scott?" Peter asked, voicing his opinion in a single word of what had happened the night Deaton had supposedly died.

"It wouldn't have been the first time he lied to the pack," Noah agreed. He scratched his eyebrow and tried to focus on why he'd brought Deaton's name into the conversation. "I wasn't there so I only know secondhand what happened the night Melissa, Chris, and I were supposed to be the Darach's final sacrifices, but talking three teenagers into ritual suicide seems pretty extreme."

"It was," Peter said with a deep frown, clearly thinking back to that night, "but they probably wouldn't have found you in time if they hadn't done that ritual."

"But it made Beacon Hills a literal beacon for supernatural creatures and it made Stiles vulnerable to the nogitsune. A hell of a lot more people died because of that ritual than just the three of us."

"You would have preferred death?" Peter asked, even though he already knew Noah's answer. No, death had never been an option. He refused to leave his son to face the world alone.

"Not death," Noah said honestly, "but it would have been very helpful if you or Derek had been able to remember where the Nemeton was."

"I still don't know why my sister took our memories of that," Peter said, his face paling alarmingly on the last few words. "Took our memories… Malia. She's…"

"She's only nine," Noah said, reaching for the werewolf's arm to steady him. "She hasn't had her first shift. She won't for a while yet. We've got time to track her down before anything bad happens."

"Yeah," Peter said, still sounding a little unsteady, "but believe me when I say Talia will be explaining exactly how my daughter ended up in the hands of clueless non-shifters."

Noah nodded. He wanted to know why too. Even if Malia's mother was a psychotic bitch who tried to kill her own daughter in the future, it didn't explain why Peter was never given the chance to raise the child himself.

"Speaking of my dear sister," Peter said, tilting his chin in the direction of a car driving into the parking lot across the road.

"Okay," Noah said, moving his hand lower to squeeze Peter's fingers briefly before letting go. "Let's just concentrate on keeping everyone alive first."

Peter nodded and took a determined step toward his sister.

~*~

Derek shrank back as Peter drew closer. Talia gave him a fierce look, but he ignored her as he moved to embrace the kid.

"I'm sorry, nephew. What I said earlier, I shouldn't have said it, and I honestly didn't mean it."

"You said I killed our family," Derek said, his voice barely a whisper.

"I did and I'm sorry. You're the victim in this and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make it right for you and the rest of our pack."

"Mom says I have to make a statement to the police."

"Yeah," Peter said, glancing back to Noah. "This is a friend of mine, Deputy Noah Stilinski. As soon as you tell him what happened he's going to arrest Kate Argent so that she can't hurt anyone else ever again."

It was idealistic bullshit. Peter and Noah both knew how much Kate enjoyed killing and she'd undoubtedly find a way to escape custody. What Noah didn't know was that Peter fully intended to claw out her throat first chance he got—this time without the alpha spark that accidently turned the psychopath into an _overpowered_ _paranormal_ psychopath _with minions!_

Peter never got minions. He couldn't even convince Scott to be a loyal beta. How the hell had Kate _fucking_ Argent ended up with an army of biddable, overpowered, bone-covered warriors?

Yeah, yeah, life wasn't fair, but did it have to fucking mock him too?

Noah stepped forward to talk to Derek, quietly assuring him that he was on the kid's side, that they all were, and explaining the process they would need to go through to ensure that Kate was not only stopped but convicted for what she'd done to Derek.

The kid still seemed unconvinced that Kate really was a hunter, but he'd apparently accepted that being sexually involved with a teacher at least a decade older than him was not a normal thing. Poor kid was probably going to carry the emotional scars for the rest of his life. Goddess willing, only Peter, Noah, and Stiles would know how bad it truly could have been.

Noah held Peter back as Talia and Derek stepped into the Sheriff's station.

"Swing by the high school and keep an eye on her if she's there. Follow her if you have to but maybe hold off on your more violent ideas now that it's going to be on record what she did to your nephew."

"Oh darling, you know me so well," Peter said, grinning broadly and playing up their supposed romantic connection. He lowered his voice and whispered in a sensual tone, "I'll behave, for now."

"I guess that's the best I can ask for under the circumstances," Noah said in a resigned tone. "Oh and if you happen to trip over my little delinquent, please sit on him till I get there."

Peter nodded like a good little _boyfriend_ and headed back to his car.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

"She's not at the school," Peter said the moment Noah answered his phone.

"Can you follow an old scent to where she might be staying in Beacon Hills?"

"Now why didn't I think of that?" Peter asked sarcastically. "Oh, maybe because there's these things called automobiles."

"Sorry," Noah said on a harsh exhale. "Yeah, I knew that." He started twice to say something and stopped before a full word came out of his mouth.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, anxiety clawing his throat. In some ways it had been easier when it had just been the three of them. Right now his focus was split over way too many problems and people to protect. But he had no choice but to keep trying. Overcoming impossible odds to make it back into the past only to lose his pack all over again would definitely be his breaking point.

If they thought he was completely insane the last time he'd gone on a murderous rampage… Yeah, he wasn't losing his pack. Not today. Not ever again.

"I'm okay," Noah said, finally answering his question after inhaling a shaky breath. "It's just… Knowing what happened to Derek 'years ago' and listening to the full story from a fifteen-year-old victim are two very different things. Even if it wasn't a clear case of statutory rape, I'm not sure the sex was actually consensual. I don't think Derek even knew he could say no. Some of the things he described…" Even through the phone Peter could hear Noah drag a hand down his face, an obvious sign of his agitation and his attempt to pull his emotions back under control. "Anyway, it explains an awful lot about the angry, closed-off man Derek became."

"It does," Peter agreed, taking a last quick look—and sniff—of the teacher's parking area before turning back toward his own car. "Is it enough to arrest her?"

"And then some," Noah said, perhaps unconsciously echoing the words and tone his son had often used. "Any sign of Stiles?"

"No," Peter said, taking another deep breath to make sure he hadn't missed Stiles's scent among the pungent aroma of sweaty teenagers. Yeah, that was never a pleasant smell.

But when he caught a familiar—and very recent—scent on the wind he couldn't hide his reaction from a man who, thanks to way too much shared trauma, possibly knew him better than he knew himself.

"What is it?"

"Laura?" he said, making the word a question even though he was certain it was her scent. "She was in the teacher's parking area fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago."

"Shit," Noah muttered through the phone. "Does the school know you? Can you drop by and check on her as a concerned uncle?"

Peter chuckled quietly at the way ordinary words had somehow ended up sounding sleazy. He could almost see the way Noah rolled his eyes, despite not being able to see the man.

"Yes, the school knows who I am," Peter said, trying to use the tiny bit of levity to focus back on the matter at hand. He followed Laura's scent all the way to an empty parking space. "But I'm pretty sure she's no longer on the school grounds."

"Was she taken by force?"

"I don't know," Peter said, trying to interpret the slight emotional variations in Laura's base scent. "I don't think she was frightened at the time."

"But she knows Kate is dangerous? She was there when you were yelling at Derek earlier?"

"Yeah, thanks for bringing that up," Peter said, irritation leaking into his tone. "Yes. Laura was there acting just as shocked as everyone else."

"Acting?" Noah asked. "Interesting choice of words."

"Maybe," Peter said, trying to remember the details of the morning's encounter more clearly. Had Laura's shock not been genuine? Had she known about Derek's relationship with a teacher? Or maybe just that he had a secret girlfriend? Was Peter being suspicious and interpreting her reactions unfairly simply because he wanted to have had a reason for killing his niece in the old timeline? "I need to call Talia."

"Okay," Noah said as the sound of a car door closing came through their connection. "I need to do the official thing, so I'm on my way to the high school to bring Kate in for questioning. If she's already not where she should be, it'll make it much easier to get an arrest warrant. I'll get her official details from the school office. At the very least it'll show fraud and maybe give us a chance to pull the feds into the search for her."

"Yay, more humans to get in my way," Peter said absently, still trying to catch Laura's scent on the wind.

"Peter," Noah said in a tired tone. "You know what happened the last time humans learned that the supernatural was real." Peter wanted to roll his eyes and make a sarcastic comment, but the man did have a point. "Let's try to avoid it this time around."

"Fine," Peter said with a soft huff. "I won't do anything that might risk exposing our secret."

"That's not very reassuring," Noah said quietly. "But I'll take it. Stay safe."

"You too," Peter said, snapping his phone closed for a moment before reopening it to dial Talia's number.

~*~

Noah marched into the school like he'd done a thousand times before and almost tripped over his own feet when he didn't recognize any of the office staff. In the old timeline he hadn't been here for years, so he couldn't really explain his surprise.

"Can I help you, deputy?" one of the women asked with a concerned-but-pleasant smile.

"I need to speak to one of the substitute teachers regarding her interactions with one of your students."

"Kate?" the woman asked, immediately raising Noah's suspicions. She must have noticed his reaction—and damn was he that out of practice?—because she quickly explained. "We currently only have one sub on the books at the moment."

Noah nodded. "Can you tell me where I can find her?"

"She got an urgent phone call and had to leave."

"When?" Noah asked, frustration making his voice a little gruffer than he'd intended. He'd already known the woman wasn't at the school, but the confirmation that someone had probably tipped her off to the Hale pack's movements made finding her more urgent.

The woman glanced over at her coworker. "About an hour ago?"

"Probably less," the coworker said, concern filtering into her voice. "I saw her driving out of the parking lot last time I went to grab coffee." She held up the cup that may or may not have had some coffee left in it. "I remember being annoyed that she was leaving when she should be teaching a class—substitute teachers are notoriously hard to find in this town—but when I saw Laura Hale in the car with her I figured it was a family emergency of some kind."

"Family emergency?" Noah asked.

"Oh yes," the first woman said. "Kate is such a sweetheart. She moved back to town when, her cousin, Derek, was diagnosed with lymphoma. She often drives him to his appointments and stays with him after chemo."

"Derek Hale?" Noah asked, trying to keep his voice even. When both women nodded he couldn't help but growl another question. "Did anyone bother to check the veracity of her story?"

"Of course," the second woman said even as the other paled, perhaps finally understanding the reason the Sheriff's office wanted to speak to Kate. "Derek confirmed that they're related."

"Anyone else?" Noah asked, grinding his back teeth as anger rippled through him.

"Well… No, I don't think so."

"So you took the word of a naïve teenager? Did it never occur to you that he might just be telling you whatever Kate told him to say?"

"You're saying she was abusing him?"

"I'm saying," Noah said, desperately trying to hold onto his professionalism, "that I need to know where Kate Argent is right now!"

"But Kate's name isn't—"

He cut off words with look. "I don't care what name she gave you. Her name is Kate Argent and right now Laura Hale is in a whole lot of danger."

"Danger?" one of the women asked breathlessly.

"Yes, this situation just became life and death. Do you have an address for Kate on file?"

"She was staying with the Hales."

"I assure you that Kate Argent is not related to the Hales and has never been in that house while the rest of the family was there." He rubbed his eyes with one hand, fear starting to overwhelm his thought processes. How had the situation spiraled out of control so quickly? "What sort of car was she driving?"

"A…um…silver one?"

"Shit," Noah said, trying to keep the exasperated word low enough to not be heard. "I need a copy of everything you have that relates to Kate Argent or whatever she was calling herself. Teacher's license. Resume. Email Address. Anything."

"I can't hand it over without a warrant."

"I know," Noah said, already reaching for his phone and turning to leave. "I'll have one within the hour."

~*~

Frustrated by Talia's dismissal—"How could Laura be at the school? She's at home searching for the mountain ash barrier that doesn't seem to exist. You must be catching an old scent."—Peter headed back to the police station, hoping to rendezvous with Noah.

He'd just parked the car in a five-minute loading zone when his phone rang.

"Noah?"

"She has Laura," Noah said breathlessly, clearly running on the other end of the phone. "They left the school less than an hour ago in a silver car."

"They left together?"

"Laura was visible in the car. I don't know if that means she was there voluntarily or not."

Peter had a million thoughts running through his mind but one stood out among them. Laura had left him behind, injured and defenseless. She'd gotten the alpha spark and she'd grabbed Derek and run. She'd been young and probably terrified, but she hadn't even stayed long enough to realize Cora was not in the body count.

But did that make her Kate's co-conspirator or just a selfish, frightened child?

Derek hadn't even been aware of how much money he'd inherited from his parents until after Laura's death. He'd lived in an abandoned subway train, for fuck's sake. But it was possible Laura had been planning to explain once Derek had reached his twenty-first birthday.

And nothing Peter knew explained why Laura had come back to Beacon Hills in time for Peter to wake up and kill her.

Derek had told him about the vendetta swirls carved into dead animals, but if Peter had been behind such an elaborate ruse he had no memory of it. Even if Laura had been involved in the murder of his family—and nothing they knew right now confirmed that—Peter still had too many unanswered questions.

"How do we find them? Did your witness have any idea where they were going?"

"No," Noah answered tersely. Peter was pretty sure there was a story behind the attitude but since it didn't affect the matter at hand—Noah would have spoken up if it had—Peter let it slide.

"So where do we start?"

"I don't know," Noah said with a low growl of frustration. The man really did spend too much time with werewolves.

"What about Stiles? Would he be able to do a location spell or something?"

"I have no idea," Noah said as the sound of a car being started filtered through the phone line. "Head back to my place and see if you can track Stiles by scent. I'll swing by the elementary school in the off chance that he somehow didn't realize what day it is."

Peter wanted to answer with a smart-ass reply—he _so_ did not enjoy taking orders from anyone—but it was the best use of their time right now so he agreed and started his car.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Noah drove into the parking area of the elementary school before it occurred to him that if Stiles wasn't at school, turning up to take him out of class was going to cause a hell of a problem. It didn't matter how old he really was, inhabiting his nine-year-old body had the potential to cause them a hell of a lot of problems.

He was still trying to come up with a believable story when the passenger side door opened and Peter climbed in.

"He's in class," Peter confirmed.

"You're sure it's him?"

"Of course I'm sure," Peter said, rolling his eyes in irritation. "I'd know the scent of my alph—" He closed his eyes and shook his head tiredly. "I'd know Stiles's scent anywhere."

"You consider Stiles your alpha?" Noah asked, wondering why he'd never noticed the signs.

"You sound surprised," Peter said in a surly tone that suggested he was not happy to have revealed himself to Noah in this way. "Surely you didn't think I stayed for the _True_ Alpha."

Noah tilted his head slightly as he remembered some of the more colorful complaints Peter had made in regards to Scott's leadership. "I suppose arguing that Stiles is human—well mostly human—doesn't make a difference in this case."

"No it does not," Peter said with a soft snort.

"What about Talia?" Noah asked curiously.

"She never listened to me the way your son always has. Even when he set me on fire I had more respect for Stiles than I ever had for my older sister."

"Stiles set you on fire?" Noah asked in a flat tone. How did he not know this? "Accidentally?"

Peter smirked. "Nope, it was well planned, almost flawlessly executed, and—If I hadn't discovered that Lydia was a banshee a few days earlier—would have been a rather permanent end to me."

"Wait," Noah said, shock rolling through him as he put two and two together. "You were… Stiles tried to kill you when he was _fifteen_?" Peter nodded, a stupid grin widening on his face at Noah's reaction. "Was he trying to protect Scott?"

"Not really," Peter said with a smirk. "Derek told Scott a story that was essentially a bedtime tale for werewolves—zero basis in fact, I might add—and Scott wanted his humanity back so desperately that he was willing to kill the werewolf who created him because Derek said it _might_ be possible."

"Scott? Scott McCall? The 'we don't kill' and 'everyone deserves a second chance even that serial killer Deucalion' because 'I am the True Alpha,' Scott McCall?" Noah's facial expression said it all. "The Scott McCall who nearly pushed my son out of the pack when he accidently killed Donovan in self-defense?" Noah was grinding his teeth through every word. " _That_ Scott McCall planned to murder you and he got my son involved?"

"In his defense," Peter said, his smirk growing wider, "Scott was too much of a chicken shit to finish the job. That's how Derek ended up with the Hale alpha spark."

"How did I not know any of this?" Noah asked, staring unseeingly up at the roof of the car. "I knew you died and came back"—he gave Peter the stink eye—"managing to traumatize a sixteen-year-old banshee in the process, but I guess I just assumed one of the many people you pissed off actually killed you. Not my son."

Peter reached over to touch his forearm, his fingers warm where they settled on Noah's skin.

"I don't hold it against Stiles—or Scott and Derek for that matter. And I was kind of proud that they managed to talk Allison into helping them." Peter shrugged. "Stiles threw the jar of chemicals at me, but I caught it before it could break. It was Allison's arrow that actually started the flames and to be honest I was relieved when Derek tore my throat out. I did not want to go through another six years of trying to recover from such horrific burns."

Holy fuck. The things the Hale family had survived were even more horrific than he'd realized. Noah had to make things right this time. "And yet you went through it twice more," Noah said, unable to stop the catch in his voice. "You were burned _twice_ _more_."

"Not really," Peter said, smirking again in an obvious attempt to lift the heavy mood from the conversation. "Escaping the Wild Hunt didn't burn me. It just skinned me alive." His words were way too casual, suggesting that he wasn't as immune to the memories as he was trying to make Noah believe. "And Melissa used the seven herbs to help me recover faster. And well, you can hardly count the last time. I didn't need to recover from that in the end."

"True," Noah conceded, unsure if Peter would accept words of comfort right at that moment. "I'll go and get Stiles. Hopefully he'll be able to help find Kate and Laura."

"Okay," Peter said, feigning a nonchalance that Noah knew him well enough to see through.

"Stay here. I won't be long."

Peter rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Yes, dear."

Eh, good enough.

The admin staff at the elementary school were at least a little more familiar to Noah.

"Good morning, Deputy Stilinski," the woman—her nametag identified her as "Ms. Alicia Padstone"—said as he approached the counter. "Did Stiles forget to bring a note again?" When she saw his expressionless face her friendly approach faltered. "Or is this…um…official business?"

"No, ma'am, I'm really sorry to be bother," Noah said, trying to smile and concentrate on the matter at hand rather than the things he'd just learned from Peter. "I forgot that Stiles has a dental appointment today and I need to collect him early."

"Well that is not our usual practice." The woman gave him an exaggerated mock frown and Noah was a little startled to realize Alicia was flirting with him. She winked and smiled. "But I guess we can bend the rules just this once."

"Thank you," Noah said, still trying to remember if this woman had flirted with him in the old timeline. It was possible she had, but Noah wouldn't have noticed anything like that when the pain of losing his wife had been so raw.

Five minutes of awkward small talk later Stiles rushed into the admin area, his packback secured over his shoulders and his anxiety levels already running high.

"Dad, what is it? What's wrong?"

Noah glanced at Alicia. The woman wasn't even pretending not to notice the exchange.

"Nothing's wrong, kid. Just a dentist appointment I forgot."

"Dentist?" Stiles asked, his face scrunching up in thought. "My check up was only a month ago."

Why the hell was his son making this difficult? Had he really not noticed what day they'd jumped back to?

"Yeah, the…um… dentist's receptionist called last week to say she'd had a cancellation and they could do that filling today. I just… I forgot to tell you."

"I need a filling?" Stiles asked, his face losing color as anxiety started to overwhelm him. "How did I not know that? Did I forget? Did you tell me and I forgot?"

"No, son," Noah said, dropping his hand onto the kid's skinny shoulder and squeezing gently. "You didn't forget. I just forgot to tell you." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Breathe with me, just like the doc taught us. Concentrate on counting." It was so much like the panic attacks Stiles had suffered after his mother had died that Noah had no doubt it was genuine.

But Stiles—well the twenty-six-year-old version—hadn't had a panic attack in years, even when things were going wrong. Once his magic had started to develop his flailing and chaotic anxiety and thought processes had settled into something far more manageable.

So what the hell did this panic attack mean?

Had Stiles lost access to his magic? Or was he just doomed to try and cope with the physical reactions of his nine-year-old body?

"You okay, son?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, his voice still a little shaky. "I just… You know. _Dentist_. And we've got a math test I'm gonna miss. And I, like, studied for it and everything. _And_ I promised Scott that we'd ride home on the bus together and that he can come to our place and play video games if his mom gets called back into work again like she did last night."

"You remember last night?" Noah asked before he realized how ridiculous the question probably sounded to Alicia who was still listening. Last night had essentially been seventeen years ago. How the hell did his son remember the details of that day?

Was an eidetic memory part of his magic? Or his ADHD?

"Will the dentist charge a cancellation fee if I don't go today?"

Hell, did his son’s worries over money start this damn early? How much of a fail-father had Noah been in the old timeline? The answer made him feel fucking nauseous.

"Oh, um, no. No charge. It'll be fine. I'll just change your appointment to a better day."

"So I can go back to class?" Stiles asked, sounding very relieved.

"Yeah, kid, go back to class. I'll be home when you and Scott get off the bus."

"Yeah?" Stiles asked, smiling like his parent being home when he got there was some sort of unexpected gift. In the old timeline if practically was.

"Yeah, I'll be there," Noah promised, silently vowing to be a much better parent this time around.

"Cool," Stiles said, apparently realizing that Alicia was still avidly hanging on every word.

Noah raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Sure," she said quickly. "Head back to class, Stiles. I'll call your teacher and let her know about the change of plans."

Stiles grinned, gave Noah a brief, fierce hug, and then spun on his heel—nearly face-planting into the doorframe on his way through—and then stumble-ran down the hall back to class.

Noah tried his most charming smile on Alicia. "Sorry for the inconvenience," he said with a tiny shrug. "I guess I have a dentist appointment to cancel."

"You're really good with him," Alicia said. Apparently the Stilinski charm still worked. Who knew? "It's not easy being a single parent."

Alicia probably wouldn't be too impressed if she knew how badly Noah had fucked things up the first time around.

"Thanks," he said, striving to be polite in a distant sort of way so that he could get back to Peter and they could come up with a plan B. "Next time, I'll remember to send a note."

"No problem," Alicia said, thankfully distracted by the phone that began ringing behind her. "Have a good day."

"You too," Noah said, already walking away.

~*~

Peter's worry grew with every step closer Noah got to the car.

"Did you hear any of that?" he asked as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Every word," Peter said, uncertain how to feel about any of it. "Stiles didn't come back with us, did he?"

"Don't think so," Noah said, running a hand down his face tiredly. "Which means we need another way to find Kate and Laura."

"The only other magic user I know is—"

"Yeah," Noah said, not even bothering to let Peter say the man's name before starting the patrol car. "I'm really hoping the local druid was less of an unfathomable dick before the Hale fire happened."

Peter shook his head. "Don’t count on that."


	6. Chapter 6

The parking area for the vet clinic was empty but something felt off.

"Don't turn," Peter said urgently.

Noah didn't even hesitate to follow his order, simply driving past the driveway and continuing down the road. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation as they cruised a little further toward the preserve.

"I'm not sure," Peter admitted. "Deaton never did anything against us. Everything he did made sense. It was all believable, all explainable, so why don't either of us trust him?"

Noah shook his head and grimaced. "You're right," he said as he turned the car into a parking lot adjacent to a family picnic area. "He never did anything against us, but he never really helped either."

"Yeah, that whole 'balance' bullshit," Peter said bitterly.

"Balance goes both ways," Noah said, frowning as he apparently followed a thought through to an unpalatable conclusion. "What if…" He swallowed and tried again. "What if Deaton's idea of balance included creating chaos when things were too quiet?"

"You think he killed my family?" Peter asked as rage flashed through him. He dragged in a deep breath and tried to ease his claws back into human form. He needed to stay focused and not go off in a blind rage. They needed information first.

"Maybe not intentionally," Noah said, obviously using the thought processes of the work he'd done with the Sheriff's department. "Part of Deaton's job as emissary was monitoring feral omegas, wasn't it?"

Peter nodded.

"What if he thought to shake things up by reporting something like a feral omega to hunters, and instead of getting a few days of tension and your family being reminded to not step out of line, he got a psychotic killer like Kate Argent involved?"

"Intentional or not, it still got most of my family killed."

"We're only talking possibilities," Noah reminded him. "We're looking for patterns. For probable cause. At this stage we don't know anything for sure. He may just be an annoying dick and had nothing to do with anything at all."

"Or he might have done something far worse," Peter said, warming to the idea of having an actual excuse to claw the guy's throat out.

"But none of that—true or not—explains how Laura got involved. Why was she at the school when her mother thought she was searching the Hale lands for signs of hunters? Did she go there to warn Kate or to kill her? Did she get in the car under duress or willingly? Is she a danger to the rest of your family or is she trying to be the hero?"

"And why didn't Talia believe me when I told her Laura was at the school?"

"She didn't believe you?" Noah asked, sounding poleaxed by the idea. "Ignoring your advice is one thing. Ignoring information that could be easily proven is negligent at the very least. Perhaps even suspicious."

"Suspicious?" Peter asked, suddenly seeing Talia's behavior from an outsider's point of view.

"Suspicious," Noah repeated, "as in why didn't she check where Laura was? Did she already know she was at the school? Did she send her?"

"Talia is the alpha. She wouldn't put her pack at risk, especially not Laura." Noah gave him a sympathetic look that made Peter want to lash out. "Why? Why would she put her pack at risk? What the hell would be her motivation?"

"I don't know," Noah admitted. "Why did she remove your memories of Malia? Or your and Derek's memories of the nemeton's location? Why did she place a shifter child with a clueless family of humans? What happens to an alpha when they kill their own pack?"

"Fuck," Peter said, gasping for air at Noah's last question. "She wouldn't."

"She did," Noah said quietly, his words calm, steady, their meaning inescapable. "The autopsy reports noted that the children all died from puncture wounds before the fire burned them."

"Mercy killings," Peter said, his heart clenching painfully. "When she realized we were trapped by the mountain ash…"

"Maybe." Noah acknowledged. "Or maybe she was trying to gather enough power to break the mountain ash barrier." He shook his head and gave Peter a sad look. "Or maybe she was expecting Kate to break the circle once everyone else was dead."

"Talia wouldn't trust a hunter," Peter said with absolute certainty. "Even if she conspired with one to kill her whole pack, she wouldn't trust them with her own life."

"Which means we're missing someone. A co-conspirator. A non-shifter. Someone who can manipulate mountain ash."

"Deaton?"

"It seems to fit," Noah said with a grim expression. "Three's a pattern." He held up his closed fist and then lifted his pointer finger. "One: Talia ignores your advice. By itself it's innocent enough, but throw in two: She takes the memory of your daughter so completely that you weren't even aware of the missing memories until Lydia told you. And three: She takes the memories of the nemeton's location so that she's the only one who can find it. They're all actions of a person who is hiding something."

"Or of an alpha who is trying to protect her pack!" Peter growled, not certain whether he was defending his sister or simply trying to deny the evidence right in front of him, "A pack is not a democracy. The alpha makes the decisions and the rest of us follow them."

"Do you really believe that?" Noah asked, his tone sympathetic. He already knew the answer.

"No," Peter admitted. He'd never followed an alpha blindly—not Talia, not Derek, not even Stiles. Peter had argued and manipulated and on occasions made decisions that were more in his own self interest than his pack's, but he'd never followed blindly. He rubbed a hand tiredly over his eyes. "Four. In the old timeline all three of her children were outside of the house when the rest of the pack was trapped inside and being killed by their alpha."

Noah pressed a hand to Peter's shoulder and squeezed gently. "So who double crossed Talia? Deaton? Did Kate just take advantage of the situation? How much did Laura know about any of it?"

Peter propped his elbow on the closed window and rested his head on his hand.

"I have no idea."

~*~

Noah really hated that he was bouncing these ideas off someone who was emotionally involved. Without any solid proof it was all just theory linking behaviors that may have had less sinister motives. But in his gut it felt right. He'd investigated way too many cases—both as a deputy and the sheriff—to ignore his instincts now.

He still had no idea where Laura fit in, but Deaton creating chaos and Talia conspiring to steal more power for herself were both very plausible situations—especially when Noah took into account Deaton's obsession with balance and the survival of Talia's children the first time around. Whether Kate was involved by chance or had been invited into the situation by Deaton, or even Talia, didn't really matter. Kate was a killer. She used her work as a hunter as an excuse for her depravity, but in the end she was nothing more than a pedophile and murderer. Whatever deal may or may not have been created, Kate was the variable that would always go off-script.

"We need to approach Deaton," Peter said suddenly, sitting up a little straighter as if he could see a way around their current problem. "Even if he's working with Talia, he might actually help us find Laura and Kate if he thinks it'll create the chaos he's aiming for."

"And if he refuses, or claims he can't help, we still have more information than we do right now."

Peter nodded. "Talia thinks we're a couple, but if I know my sister she hasn't passed that information onto anyone else just yet. She'll be saving it for when it will benefit the pa—" He swallowed painfully. "For when it will benefit _her_ the most."

"So you're proposing we approach him separately?"

Peter shrugged. "Let me go in first. I'll ask for help finding Kate before the sheriff's department arrests her. He'll assume I mean to kill her long before the humans really know what's going on."

"A valid assumption," Noah said, wearing a resigned expression. "With the added bonus of ensuring enough chaos to—in Deaton's mind—balance the past few years of relative peace."

"Could that be why he didn't open the mountain ash barrier in the first timeline? By not killing the hunter in our midst we didn't create enough chaos for Deaton to be satisfied?"

"It's still conjecture," Noah said, "but it fits the facts we know so far."

"So if he helps me now," Peter said slowly, "we can assume he only wants a little bit of chaos—a werewolf-hunter tit-for-tat type of conflict—and if he doesn't, we're working on the theory that he plans to sacrifice the whole family to make up for the past decade of peace and maybe buy a few years more in the balance."

"I'm really starting to hate the 'B' word," Noah said, rubbing the side of his head and desperately trying to anticipate every possible outcome. "But, yeah, your assumptions also fit what we know."

"Still doesn't explain Laura's involvement."

"No, it doesn't." Noah ran a hand down his face tiredly. It was an awful tell when it came to his emotional state, but he was comfortable enough with Peter to share that part of himself these days. It was probably good timing too since without Stiles it really was just the two of them fighting for a better future.

Peter opened the door to the cruiser. "I'll cut through the park and pay Deaton a visit. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He was gone before Noah could protest—damn supernatural speed—but he was aware enough to know it was currently their best choice. Noah hated sitting on the sidelines, and he hated not knowing what was happening even more, but he ground his teeth together and stayed in place.

The ringtone of his phone was a welcome distraction until he saw who was calling.

"Peter?"

"They're here," he said urgently. "Kate and Laura are inside the building. Unless Deaton opens the barrier, I can't get through the mountain ash."

"Stay where you are," Noah ordered even as he started the car. "Wait for me, Peter." A disconnected signal was his only response. "God damn it, how the fuck did I get myself involved with werewolves?"

The answer was the same as it had always been.

_Just like his son, Noah cared too much to walk away._

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

"Hello, Peter," Deaton said in his annoyingly pleasant tone. "How can I help you today?"

"You can help me by explaining why my niece and Kate Argent are hiding in your back room."

Deaton smiled serenely. "I believe they're talking."

"About?" Peter asked, perplexed by the druid's calm reaction.

"I have no idea," Deaton answered with a tiny nod. "They asked for privacy. I gave it to them."

"Too bad your 'privacy' spell didn't work the way you said it would," Kate complained with an exaggerated huff, stepping from the back room and into the area behind Deaton's counter. She shook her head mockingly as she leaned against the doorframe. "Apparently it didn't block scent."

"My apologies," Deaton said, seemingly unworried to have a heavily armed hunter at his back. "But I did warn you that a spell like that couldn't be rushed."

Kate pursed her lips and nodded once. "Yes, you did," she agreed, pretending to think about it. "If I remember correctly you said 'I will try my best.'" She grinned maliciously. "I guess your best just wasn't good enough."

Deaton smiled pleasantly. "I guess not."

Kate seemed a little perturbed by the druid's lack of remorse and outward reaction, but Peter could hear his heartbeat. Deaton was at least smart enough to know his life was in danger at that moment.

"So tell me, sweetie," Kate said, turning her attention to Peter. "What is so important that you needed to interrupt precious alone time with my girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow as if he didn't believe it. Unfortunately it not only fit the hypothesis he and Noah had been working on, but it also made Laura a victim, just like Derek. She may have been older when the relationship started, but she'd probably been manipulated by Kate in exactly the same way.

It also meant killing Laura in the old timeline had been even less justified. Peter swallowed down the nausea and tried to focus on saving his niece in this timeline.

"Laura," Peter called, hoping that she was able to hear him and at least step into the room where he could see she was unhurt.

"Uncle Peter," Laura said in a pleading tone as she moved to stand beside Kate. "Please don't be angry at Kate. She was only being nice to Derek. She had no idea he'd built up so many romantic fantasies in his head."

"Fantasies?" Peter asked in a flat tone.

"After everything that happened with Paige," Laura said earnestly, "it's not really surprising that he would imagine romance with an older woman."

Peter was careful not to shake his head or show disagreement in any way. Something was very wrong. Laura had been in the hallway earlier in the day when Peter had been ranting about the future. She may not have been inclined to believe him—Peter wouldn't have if the situation were reversed—but he'd at least expected some family loyalty for her younger brother. Everyone in that hallway had known Derek was being honest. Even if the "delusional fantasies" explanation was true, why would Laura accept it from a woman she now knew was a hunter without talking to her brother first? The testimony Derek had given Noah had been enough to rattle experienced investigators. Peter had no doubt Derek's version was the truth. "I guess that could be an explanation," Peter said, cautiously.

"Oh thank the goddess," Laura said, apparently interpreting his reaction as agreement. She moved closer to the mountain ash counter that Deaton would have to open to let her out. It was quick but the tiny little ask-and-answer facial expressions between Kate and Deaton didn't escape Peter's notice. It may have just been the druid making sure Kate wouldn't shoot him for letting Laura out, but Peter would bet good money there was more to that interaction. "Uncle Peter, I need your help to convince Mom. She never listens to me."

"And you think she listens to me?" Peter asked before he could stop the surprised tone in his question.

Laura's confidence faltered. "Maybe she'll listen to both of us?" she asked in a small voice.

"I suppose we can at least try to sort this mess out," Peter said, wondering if this was Laura's way of trying to get away from Kate. "Why don't we head home and give it a try?"

Laura wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight for a few moments.

"Thanks, Uncle Peter, I knew you'd understand."

~*~

Noah drove his patrol car around the entire parking area, grinning when he saw the silver hatchback parked out of sight from the road. He drove straight up to the front door and parked, willing to alert Kate if it meant rescuing any innocent parties.

The hunter would run if she could and she'd kill if she was cornered, so giving her an out seemed like a good idea. Of course, Kate didn't always stick to those rules if the way Chris had described her eventual death in the other timeline was anything to go by. Wanting Daddy's love and then being rejected by the man for being an extremely powerful supernatural creature—even though Gerard Argent himself had violently tried to become an alpha werewolf a couple years earlier and had used the kanima for his own gains—was almost completely ridiculous. Killing each other didn't even make any sense.

That was one seriously fucked up family and first chance he got Noah planned to have a very frank, in-depth discussion with Chris Argent. Maybe Noah would even be able to convince the man to leave his wife and fall in love with Melissa McCall much earlier this time around. It might even derail the on-again-off-again romance angst between Scott and Allison if they met when they're ten-year-olds instead of horny teenagers.

Noah was a little surprised to see Peter and Laura exit via the front door of the vet clinic, but when Peter didn't acknowledge him and instead guided Laura toward the woodlands in the direction of the Hale house, Noah pretended not to notice them.

Kate was no doubt heavily armed so Noah decided to play dumb when he entered the waiting area and found only Deaton behind the counter.

"Deputy," Deaton said, smiling that infuriatingly calm smile. "How can I help you today?"

"Good afternoon," Noah said, using his official tone while trying to remember if he'd met Deaton this early in the other timeline and concluding that he probably hadn't. "I was hoping you could tell me who owns the silver car parked behind the building."

"Silver?" Deaton asked, genuinely perplexed.

Now this was why Noah didn't trust the guy. He was lying to an officer of the law and whatever his motivation—to protect Kate or to protect himself if Kate chose to kill him for giving her up—Deaton was doing it with complete believability.

"It matches the description of a vehicle belonging to a substitute teacher from the high school." Noah pulled his notepad from his pocket and pretended to look up the name.

"It's stolen?" Deaton asked, seeming shocked.

"No, sir," Noah corrected. "The sheriff's department is looking for the teacher and a female student who may be with her. We have some questions we'd like to ask them both in regards to a current investigation. Have you seen anyone suspicious in the area?"

"I'm afraid I haven't," Deaton said calmly. "Perhaps you could leave your number with me in case I see her."

"This woman is dangerous, probably armed. If you see her call 911," Noah said, shuddering internally at the thought of Deaton having a direct line to him. And well also because he couldn't remember the phone number he'd used seventeen years ago. Yeah, first chance he got he was going to look that up. Or at least ask Peter since he was the one who put his number in Noah's phone and then texted himself earlier that morning.

Fuck had it really only been a handful of hours since they'd arrived back in the past?

~*~

Once they were hidden in the treeline Peter turned back, pretending to be curious as to the outcome of the discussion between the vet and the sheriff's deputy.

Laura snorted. "As if a human is going to be able to arrest Kate."

"You knew she was a hunter?" Peter asked, trying to make it sound like idle chatter rather than an interrogation.

"Of course," Laura said, "even with the scentless body washes and other precautions she takes it's kind of hard to miss the smell of wolfsbane."

"Derek missed it," Peter said with a shrug, feigning a calm he was far from feeling.

"That's because Mom doesn't listen when I tell her trying to protect the young ones from knowing these things is dangerous."

"So you brought a hunter into our midst to prove you were right?"

Laura laughed. "Of course not. Kate was just a happy coincidence."

Peter heard Noah leave the clinic and watched him get back into his car before turning away and heading home. "How long have you and Kate been together?"

Laura shrugged. "Six, seven months."

"She's a teacher at your high school." He tried not to put any judgment into his tone but Laura wrinkled her nose in annoyance as if she'd heard it anyway.

"We both know I'm mature for my age."

Yeah, Peter couldn't even pretend to agree with that. Laura's behavior today did not support that at all. Right now she was coming off as a selfish, spoiled, over-confident child—exactly the type of alpha who would grab her brother and run, abandoning a severely injured packmate in the process.

No wonder Peter had gone insane while his body tried to recover. They walked in silence for a few minutes as Peter tried to remember everything that had happened in the old timeline and somehow align it to what was happening in the new. Even after years to grieve and try to piece together what had happened and why Peter still had no real answers.

"Hey, Uncle Peter," Laura asked, "can I borrow your phone? I should check in with Mom."

"Of course," he said, handing over his phone without a second thought.

"Thanks," she said, skipping away to make her phone call.

Peter had but a moment to sense the danger coming up behind him before pain ripped through his spine and he hit the ground hard.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Noah was tempted to call Peter for an update, but he had no idea what had transpired inside the vet clinic before Peter had left with his niece beside him. Right now Noah didn't know if she was an innocent victim or somehow involved in a murder plot and until he did he wasn't going to distract Peter or risk drawing attention to himself and his son.

A quick glance at the dashboard clock confirmed that school was about to finish meaning Stiles, and perhaps Scott, would be arriving home within the next half hour. Noah had promised to be there and it was a promise he intended to keep.

Peter would call him if he needed help and there wasn't really anything else Noah could do for the investigation right then anyway.

Walking through the front door was as surreal as waking at the table earlier that day, but Noah pushed the thought aside and headed into the kitchen. He'd gotten a little better at cooking over the years, but Stiles was still better at it when he was nine than Noah had ever been.

It was yet one more damning mark against his parenting skills since Claudia's death. Hell, it was possible he'd been a lousy parent all along and it had only been Claudia's absence that had shone a spotlight on his failings. He had no idea how long he stared at the contents of the cupboard without really seeing anything, so he startled slightly when Stiles opened the front door and walked into the house.

"Dad?"

"In the kitchen," he called back. "What do you want for dinner?"

He wasn't really surprised when Stiles ran over to hug him, but the way his entire body was shaking was very concerning.

"Stiles?" he asked, dropping his voice to a low, soothing tone. "What's wrong?"

The kid shook his head and gripped Noah more tightly. Noah rocked slowly, waiting for Stiles to settle down before lifting him onto the kitchen counter and trying to see his son's face.

"Is it Scott?" he asked. Even as a nine-year-old Scott had routinely forgotten Stiles existence when something or someone caught his attention.

"Not Scott," Stiles said, trying to avoid looking directly at Noah. "I um…" He rubbed the back of his hand over his nose, his bottom lip quivering. "Do you remember when we talked to the doctor that time?"

Noah nodded even though he had no idea which doctor or what appointment his son was referring to.

"He said Mom was lucy nating and she needed to be in a hospital."

"Hallucinating," Noah corrected automatically. "Yeah, it meant that her disease had gotten worse."

"Do you think maybe I got her disease too?"

"That's very unlikely," Noah said, hoping like hell that changing the timeline didn't somehow affect his son's physical health in the past. Then again Stiles had only been twenty-six when they'd reset the timeline. It's possible that the kid had been hiding symptoms from Noah for years. Noah swallowed hard and tried to hide how freaked out he was feeling. He couldn't lose his son the way they'd lost Claudia. He just couldn't. He wouldn't survive it. "Is something happening that's got you this worried?"

"I keep hearing a voice in my head. It's like the man is standing right beside me but there's nobody there."

"What's he saying?" Noah asked, managing to keep a calm tone.

Stiles blinked rapidly but it did nothing to stop the tears overflowing down his face.

"He's saying 'Help, me, alpha. Please help me.'"

"Do you know his name?" Noah asked urgently, hope and fear mixing together and making his throat feel tight. "Can you ask him?" Stiles shrugged. "Close your eyes and concentrate on the voice. Ask him his name."

"Dad?" Stiles asked, his voice shaky. "The doctor said not to encourage Mom's hallucinations."

"He did," Noah said, wondering how the hell to explain what was happening to Stiles without dragging him into the supernatural world at such a young age. "But we can just try it this way first and if it doesn't work…" He couldn't finish that sentence. His instincts were roaring at him to go find Peter.

"Okay," Stiles said, closing his eyes and scrunching up his face in concentration. "Peter. He says his name is Peter, and he… he knows my name." He looked at his father worriedly. "He knows my real name. Nobody knows my real name."

"Peter Hale does," Noah confirmed. He had no idea how to keep Stiles out of this now. "He's a… a friend of mine." And now was definitely not the time to realize how much more important the man was to him than just a friend and packmate.

"He's hurt," Stiles said urgently. "In the tunnels?" He frowned unhappily. "He says you know where they are."

"I do," Noah said. "Does Peter know who attacked him?"

"He's not sure," Stiles said, tilting his head to the side as if he was concentrating very hard. "But his wounds aren't healing so he's pretty sure it was a…um…" He frowned unhappily. "Dad I'm pretty sure I'm going crazy like Mom did."

"No, kid, you're not," Noah said, hugging his son hard. "Peter said he was attacked by a werewolf, yeah?"

"Yeah, an alpha werewolf," Stiles said, staring at his father with wonder in his eyes. "You believe me?"

"Absolutely," Noah said, regretting that Stiles would need to keep so many secrets at such a young age. "But you can't tell anyone, okay? Not even Scott. People's lives depend on it."

"Okay," Stiles said decisively. "So how are we going to rescue Peter?"

"Yeah," Noah said, pride swelling through him. "This is why Peter claims you as his alpha."

"Cool." Stiles grinned, apparently happy to take that at face value. For now. Noah had no doubt they'd be talking about these things for a long time to come. Assuming of course that they survived their first day back in the past.

"We need to go," Noah said as he retrieved his gun from the safe and wondered where the fuck he was going to find wolfsbane bullets in this timeline. Chris Argent wouldn't move to Beacon Hills for another six years, so Noah's only real choice was that fucking druid.

Damn.

~*~

Peter only knew he was in the tunnels because of the smell.

He was facedown on the floor, his hands bound behind him. It felt like rope, no wolfsbane involved, but the injuries to his back were still raw and bleeding and every small movement, every tiny breath, made him feel like it was tearing him apart. He was pretty sure his back was broken thanks to the strangely numb feeling in his legs.

He hadn't even realized he'd been silently calling out to for his alpha until Stiles had answered. That had been a serious shock. They'd never had a telepathic link in the future, not even when Stiles's spark had been developed.

Peter would be lucky if Noah didn't kill him for dragging his son back into this life, but if it stopped Talia from murdering his entire family Peter refused to regret it.

"Why Peter?" Talia asked, apparently having entered the room without him noticing. Yeah, he was way more injured than he'd realized. "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" Peter asked, the words barely a breath of sound through his pain.

"Why did you bring a hunter into our lives?" Talia crouched down beside him and gently ran a clawed finger over the side of his face. "Did you lose your nerve when you realized what she was doing to Derek? Is that what this morning's rant was all about? An attack of conscience when you realized she was abusing my son?"

"No," Peter said, horrified by the accusation. "I wouldn't."

"Her scent was all over you," Talia said tiredly. "You smelled like you'd been fucking her in the back of Deaton's clinic while the rest of the family was on a wild goose chase, searching for a circle of mountain ash that doesn't exist."

"No," Peter said, the word barely discernible through the sob lodged in his throat.

"Laura caught you," Talia said, moving away from him. "And unlike you, my lying little brother, I trust my daughter to tell me the truth."

"Oh, sweetie. You really shouldn't."

~*~

"Dad, hurry," Stiles said urgently, sitting up straighter in his seat. "Call for backup."

"Why," Noah said, even as he reached for the two-way radio. "What do I tell them?"

"Tell them the Hale house is on fire."

~*~

Peter moaned in warning as Talia spun quickly to the sound of an unfamiliar voice and husky laugh.

"Laura?" Talia asked in a confused tone, frowning at her daughter as the young woman entered the room behind Kate Argent and then closed the door behind them. "Laura, what the hel—"

The single gun shot was loud in the underground room but thanks to the soundproofing unlikely to have been heard by anyone in the house.

"Tal," Peter cried urgently, straining to move toward her despite the pain urging his wolf to cower and retreat. He roared in anger, pulling against the ropes holding his hands behind him. He used his claws, cutting and healing himself over and over as he tried to escape his bindings so that he could move to protect Talia.

"Oh, sweetie," Kate said as a booted heel dug into the wounds on his back and flattened him against the floor, "don't you understand the way this goes?"

Talia lay facedown on the ground, the wound to her throat bleeding profusely, her eyes closed against the inevitable. Laura was already advancing on Talia, her claws out, a manic grin on her face. "I'm the alpha now!" she said smugly, sinking her claws into her mother's unprotected back, aiming for her heart.

Laura growled triumphantly, wolfing out as her eyes flared red, and then she turned her attention to Peter. He closed his eyes too, resigned to his fate, desperately regretting that he hadn't been able to change anything, even with a miraculous second chance. Hopefully Noah would be able to do a better job.

Talia was already dead and Peter was soon to follow.

Why had he ever believed anything would somehow go to plan?

The pounding on the door startled Laura, Derek's desperate voice reaching them even through the sound-proofed door.

"Go on," Kate said with a smirk. "The mountain ash is already in place. Go deal with the others first." She ground her boot down, digging viciously with her heel until Peter felt his barely healed spine snap again. "I'll just keep Uncle Petey company until you get back."

"Fine," Laura agreed, turning toward the door to unlock it. Derek practically fell into her arms, his voice desperate and high pitched. "The house is on fire. Just like Uncle Peter said would happen. There's mountain ash everywhere. We can't get out. The kids—"

Laura pushed him through the doorway, urging him back up the stairs without letting him see into the room or giving him a chance to identify the smell of blood through his panic.

Kate laughed delightedly when the door closed firmly behind them.

"Wow, I have such perfect timing," she said, removing her boot from Peter's back, giving his mangled spine another chance to heal. The wounds Talia had given him were still a big problem even if he could get his legs moving. Kate kicked him in the face just for fun. "One might even say it was meant to be."

Peter kept his mouth closed, unwilling to encourage more smug bragging from the bitch who'd managed to destroy his family in two goddamned timelines.

"What I don't understand," Kate said, monologing like a cartoon villain again, "is how you knew?" She used her booted foot to roll him onto his side and then squatted down to viciously grab his chin, forcing him to focus on her. "Laura swears she didn't tell you." Kate shrugged casually. "And you know, I'm inclined to believe the naïve little bitch. After all she _did_ run and tell me what you'd said the moment she had a chance." Kate moved closer, and dropped her voice to a sensual whisper. "And it was her idea to rub the scent of my orgasm all over your back so that Talia would blame you." She laughed softly. "Too bad your niece is nothing more than a mongrel that needs to be put down like the rest of you otherwise I might have been inclined to keep her. She does have a wonderfully developed vicious streak thanks to Deucalion." Kate laughed again, apparently enjoying herself immensely. "I wonder if she would still have asked for my help if she'd realized just who blinded her hero."

Holy fuck. That explained so much.

Deucalion had always blamed Talia for his blindness, claiming that if she'd joined the peace summit Gerard Agent wouldn't have moved against them, may have chosen peace instead. It was all bullshit. Talia had been right to disagree and to refuse to attend, but Deucalion had never seen it that way. It also meant that, despite the few changes to the timeline Peter had been able to make, this was what had happened the first time around.

Except that this time Peter was in the basement, not in the house where firemen had been able to retrieve his badly burned body and get him the medical help that had saved his life.

Even if Noah was on his way, even if he brought the whole sheriff's department and all of the Beacon Hills fire brigade with him Peter's chance of surviving the next ten minutes were extremely unlikely.

He needed another miracle.

And this time he didn't have a spark.

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

"Stay in the car," Noah yelled at his son, almost climbing out of the driver's seat before the patrol car was fully stopped. He bolted as fast as he could toward the front door to the Hale house, barely stopping to turn the handle so he could stumble inside. "Where's the line?"

Two young children cowered away from him, their faces tear-streaked, their fear more than obvious.

Noah forced himself to stay calm. The house was definitely on fire. It was full of smoke, but so far there weren't any flames he could see. He dropped to one knee, channeling the warmth and empathy that Jordan Parrish had always shown when dealing with terrified victims.

"My name is Noah Stilinski. I'm a friend of Peter's and I know all about werewolves." He turned and waved his hand toward the front door. "Where is the mountain ash line? I can't sense it, but I can break it. I just need you to tell me where it is."

The little girl shook her head. "It feels like it's everywhere."

"Everywhere?" Noah asked, glancing around the room frantically. "Can you move toward me?"

"No," the young boy said, placing his hand on the barrier in front of him.

"Shit. Okay. Yeah, okay. Fu—" Noah shut his mouth and tried not to swear any more in front of impressionable children. The kids were scared enough. "We're going to figure this out. We're all going to get out of this, I promise."

The boy touched the barrier again, stepping several feet to the left and sliding his hand along in his wake. It took Noah a moment to realize the kid seemed to be on the outside of the circle, instead of inside it. That didn't make any sense.

"Kid, keep going," Noah said, nodding in the direction he wanted him to move. "Keep your hand on the barrier and show me how far you can go." Both kids literally ran in circles, climbing over furniture and knocking things out of their way. When they reached a point closest to the front door they both turned toward it and hit another barrier.

Noah didn't need to suggest it. The kids changed direction and ran one on each side, both following the spiral pattern back to their original point.

"I don't think we can get out," the boy—he couldn't have been older than five—said in a tiny voice. "I think our mom and dad are trapped too. They would have finded us if they weren't."

"Okay," Noah said, searching in his mind for everything he knew about mountain ash. He'd never seen it laid out in a spiral before but it wouldn't be active without the outer circle being closed. If he could only figure out where it was he only needed to disrupt the outer circle. "When did the barrier go up?"

"Only a minute ago," the little girl said. "I smell fire."

"Don't worry about that right now," Noah said, trying to stay calm. "I'm going to find the barrier and we're going to get everybody out. Okay?"

"I hear sirens," the boy said, tilting his head to the left as if he was listening really hard. "Are they coming here?"

"Yep," Noah said in as confident a tone as he could muster. "They'll be here in plenty of time to help." He glanced at the stairway and dropped back down to one knee. "I need to go find the mountain ash so I can bring down the barrier. I need you two to get as close to the door as you can and run into the yard and toward my car the moment the barrier is down, okay?" The kids both nodded. "My son is there. His name is Stiles and I promise he will keep you safe while everyone else gets out."

"Okay," the boy said. The girl nodded shyly.

"I'll meet you there as quickly as I can."

And before he could regret the need to leave two young children trapped and terrified and alone, Noah turned to the stairs and climbed them two at a time.

~*~

_This is my fault. This is my fault. This is my fault._

Derek could barely breathe, the trauma of the day paling in comparison to the fact that everything Uncle Peter had said would happen had happened. They were all going to die and it was all Derek's fault.

"Derek," Laura said, gripping his arm really hard and pulling him to a stop. "Stop blaming yourself. Concentrate on getting out alive."

"But I—"

Laura rolled her eyes impatiently and shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth. He stared at her wide-eyed, his panic receding slightly as he tried to comprehend his sister's unexpected strength.

"Go upstairs, find Mom. I'll see if anyone is trapped down here."

"Okay," he said, his voice quivering in his throat even as he turned toward the nearest staircase and raced up them and down the long hallway.

But something made him stop, made him hesitate, made him turn back.

~*~

"Laura's upstairs killing your family," Kate said gleefully, squatting in front of Peter and holding her gun pointed at the ground between her knees. "Well, she's killing the kids. The adults…" She shrugged casually like she was discussing the weather. "It's probably not a good idea to take on the adults. Can't have anyone stealing those pretty red eyes from her now can we?" Kate laughed, apparently impressed by her own sick jokes. "She'll be back for you though. It's rather handy that your big sister didn't trust you. It made it so much easier to convince her she needed to incapacitate you so you could _talk_." Kate grinned maliciously and shook her head. "Poor Petey. Too injured to fight back. Now you have to listen to what big sis has to say." She gasped dramatically and covered her mouth with her fingertips. "Oops, I guess you'll have to wait till you join her in the afterlife."

"Been there," Peter said, unable to reign in his inner smart-ass. "Wasn't a fan."

"Really," Kate said, seeming intrigued. "How did you manage that I wonder. Resurrection spells are fickle things. Hard to control. Even harder to get right." She pursed her lips and pouted. "Zombie blood is so difficult to get out of the carpet."

"Zombies?" Peter asked using his most obnoxious mocking tone. "No such thing."

"Oh, sweetie, you really need to read more."

Peter bit his tongue to avoid reacting to that. He was very well read, thank you very much, but that was not something a hunter needed to know.

"The only safe way to resurrect someone," Kate mused nonchalantly, "is to use a banshee."

Peter rolled his eyes and thanked the goddess that Kate was human and couldn't hear the rapid spike in his heartbeat. "They're not real either."

"Okay, now I know you're lying to me. Banshees are very real and I know that you know one. They have prophetic dreams. They can see the future. She's the one who warned you about the fire, isn't she?" Kate moved closer and smoothed a finger down the side of Peter's face as if they were lovers. "Go on, sweetie, confession is good for the soul. It might even help you in the afterlife." She moved close enough to whisper in his ear. "Tell me her name, so I can put her out of her misery."

~*~

Noah had no idea where he was going. The smoke upstairs was thicker and visibility was practically nil. He heard a familiar growl a moment before he bumped into a hard body.

For a moment he thought it was Peter, but the quiet curse identified the young man better than anything else he could have uttered. Noah had heard it used way too many times when Stiles had dived headfirst into danger to mistake the werewolf for anyone else.

"Derek?"

"Deputy Stilinski?" Derek asked urgently. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting you and your family out."

Derek started to say something but shut his mouth quickly when terrified screams sounded from the downstairs foyer. Without even thinking about it Noah spun around and ran back the way he'd come.

~*~

Derek tried to follow the deputy but ran into a mountain ash barrier.

Fuck.

He doubled back, jumping in a single leap down the staircase he'd climbed only moments earlier. He spun around the corner, racing toward the foyer from the other way. He was shocked to realize the screams were coming from his tiny cousins and Laura was the one attacking them.

"Laura!" he screamed.

"Mercy killings," Laura growled back, not bothering to look in his direction. "I told you to go find Mom."

"Mom's dead," Derek said, unsure where that information was coming from until he inhaled again and caught the scent of his mother's blood on his sister's hands. "You're the alpha now. You killed her."

"And you weren't supposed to be in the house."

"What?" Derek asked, bewildered until the answer finally sank into his head. "You knew this was going to happen?"

"I had the perfect plan," she said, walking in a wide arc that took her past the children who—judging by the way they were squished together—seemed to be trapped inside a very tiny circle of mountain ash. "You, me, and Kate. We'd be our own pack. I'd find another sweet little Paige for you and we'd build ourselves much happier lives."

"Laura, you killed Mom."

"It was the only way to get the alpha spark." She shrugged as if the death of their mother had absolutely no affect on her.

"Laura, you're the alpha now," Derek said, desperately trying to break through the weird emotionless state that had overtaken his sister. "And you still have a pack. Our pack. Our family. Laura, help me save them. Help me get everyone out of here."

Laura smirked. "It's such a shame," she said as if she wasn't stalking around their terrified cousins in a weird spiral pattern working inward. "I honestly did want you in my pack, but you really are just a naive child." She turned her attention back to the children. "I guess that means I'll be taking your power once I'm finished here."

The gunshot that rang out had Derek ducking for cover, his ears ringing from the loud noise. Laura staggered sideways, clutching her side and turning a glare toward Deputy Stilinski.

"You are seriously going to pay for that," she said, reversing direction and walking the same widening arc in reverse. "I suppose they don't teach you the important things at sheriff school. You know, like the fact that bullets don't kill werewolves."

Deputy Stilinski shrugged, feigning calm even though every werewolf in the room could hear his racing heartbeat. "I know enough," he said, taking a single step out the front door. "And I know where to get wolfsbane-laced bullets."

"He's a hunter," Laura screamed, completing the spiral and then pushing Derek toward Deputy Stilinski. "Kill him before he kills us." She ran from the room, back toward the tunnels. "I have the cure for wolfsbane poisoning downstairs."

Derek turned his attention to the deputy who'd treated him with kindness and compassion earlier that day. "You're a friend of Uncle Peter's?"

"I am," the deputy said, slowly moving closer to Derek.

"And you're a hunter?"

"No," he said, pushing his gun back into its holster and closing the leather flap. "I only have wolfsbane bullets because we weren't sure who started the fire. I needed to be prepared for all eventualities, and I have the cure with me just in case."

"Laura?" Derek said, glancing in the direction his sister had gone.

"I'll give her the cure," Deputy Stilinski said with a nod. "But first we need to find the mountain ash." He signaled to Derek's cousins. "Follow the spiral to Derek. Stay with him. He'll protect you if Laura comes back." The kids moved quickly, trusting Deputy Stilinski and doing what he said. They attached themselves to Derek like a couple of barnacles and he placed his hands on their necks, squeezing gently to keep them calm. "When you showed Kate around did you go up onto the roof?"

Derek nodded. "You think that's where she put the mountain ash?"

"I don't know," Deputy Stilinski said, "but right now it's the best information I have."

"But there's too much smoke. You'll never make it through."

It was clear that the deputy knew that, but he was brave enough to try it anyway.

"Dad?" a human boy said as he stumbled through the front door.

"Stiles, I told you to wait in the car," Deputy Stilinski said, exasperation leaking into his tone.

"But Dad," the kid said, "the fire is getting worse and you're just standing here. You need to get everyone out."

"I'm working on it," Deputy Stilinski growled. Wow, the guy could almost pass for a werewolf.

"Work faster," Stiles said, hurrying over to Derek and the kids and pushing them toward the door. Derek let him. The kid was cute and he really was trying to help. He was going to be rather confused when Derek and his cousins hit an invisible wall.

He grabbed Stiles and hugged him as hard as he'd hugged his cousins.

"Thanks, kid, but it's not going to work."

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

Peter could feel his wounds trying to heal but he stayed still, pretending to be tempted by Kate's promises of redemption in the afterlife. There wasn't a chance in hell that he'd endanger Lydia by telling this psycho her name, but the longer Kate rambled the better chance Peter had to heal without her noticing.

The wounds Talia had inflicted were knitting back together faster now that she was dead. Peter hadn't really expected that strange side-effect, but he wasn't about to question the one thing that seemed to be going right. He might not get out of the fire this time, but if he could take Kate fucking Argent with him then the trip back in time was probably worth it.

He just needed her to be distracted, to point her gun in a different direction.

He almost couldn't believe his luck when the door burst open and Kate lifted her gun in that direction. She barely had time to squeeze off a shot before Peter broke his bindings and tore open her throat.

Yeah, that felt even better the second time around.

~*~

"Not a kid," Stiles said grumpily, still pushing Derek and the kids toward the front door. Noah was about to intervene when a miracle happened.

Derek nearly fell to his knees when they passed through the barrier unscathed.

"Is it gone?" Noah asked, helping Derek back up and hurrying the four kids across the porch and toward his patrol car.

"No," Derek said, shaking his head in confusion. "It's still there. Somehow we just passed straight through it."

Noah closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very relieved.

"Stiles," he said, reaching for his son and squatting down so that they were nearly the same height. "I need you to do something. It's going to save a lot of people's lives."

"Anything, Dad," his son said with the determination that had taken him through the most difficult years of a life Noah hoped Stiles would never remember.

"Did you feel the barrier at the door? That strange tingle on your skin?"

"Yup," Stiles said, nodding quickly and looking at Noah like he held all the answers of the universe. "It's what that guy meant when he said it wouldn't work, yeah?"

"That guy is Derek. Derek Hale."

Stiles gave the teenager a quick nod, but turned his attention back to the home that was now pouring smoke out of nearly every window on the east wing.

"How can I help?"

Noah nodded, so damn proud of his son that he had to blink back the tears. "Close your eyes. Concentrate on the barrier. It's made of mountain ash. It's something you can manipulate and move."

Stiles did as Noah asked, screwing up his face in concentration.

"Okay, hold your hand out," Noah instructed. "Palm up. And call the mountain ash to you."

"Sounds like magic," Stiles said, momentarily disbelieving. "You think I can do magic."

"I know you can, son. And you're more powerful than any of us ever realized. Just call the mountain ash to your hand and break the barrier. It will let everyone out and you'll save them all."

"Yeah," Stiles said, his voice betraying his excitement as his eyes began to glow a pale gold. "I can feel it."

Derek quickly moved the kids out of the way, stepping back to let the mountain ash fly like a snake into Stiles's hand, overflowing and dropping to the ground as more and more mountain ash flew toward them.

The sound of windows being smashed and people shouting and running was probably one of the best noises Noah had ever heard.

~*~

Peter watched the life drain from Kate's eyes and couldn't deny the feeling of relief that washed over him. He'd killed her the same way in the other timeline, but he'd been an alpha then and had miscalculated the risk. This time Kate wouldn't get a do-over. He was only a beta so Kate would never recover and she would never claim her minions.

Yeah, he made a mental note to look into that. He was pretty sure Noah wouldn't let him keep them, but it was something they still needed to neutralize. The last thing they needed was some other psycho getting ahold of them.

Assuming Peter found a way out of the fire.

He didn't fancy spending another six years in a coma, but he knew without a doubt he'd have Noah and Stiles there to help him. As long as at least one of them drew breath, Peter would never be alone. He took comfort in that.

It took him a ridiculous amount of time to remember that Kate had been shooting at someone who'd come through the door, so Peter was really confused to realize it was Laura who'd been shot. And she was barely alive. Just like Talia, Kate's bullet had torn open Laura's carotid artery.

His niece was bleeding out and Peter hadn't saved her.

He gathered her in his arms, holding her on his lap with her head against his shoulder.

She whimpered quietly, her heart slowing as he held her close, the dark lines of wolfsbane poisoning quickly stretching down her arms.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to her, his heart breaking. "I should have known Deucalion would find a way to make Talia suffer. I knew he was dangerous. I knew he'd killed his whole pack and I should have known you were vulnerable to his beliefs, to the promise of unlimited power."

Peter rocked gently back and forth, no longer caring whether he was able to get upstairs and near enough to the mountain ash barrier to be rescued. He'd failed Laura and Talia a long time ago, much further back than Stiles spell had sent them.

"I'm so, so sorry," he whispered over and over, a quiet litany of apologies as his young niece's life finally slipped away. "You deserved so much better."

~*~

Derek was doing a headcount. Almost his entire family had escaped the fire. The only ones missing were Laura and Peter. Derek already knew his mom was dead, that Laura had stolen her alpha power and gone insane, but he hoped Peter wasn't far behind them.

He went to move closer to the house, willing to brave the flames for his uncle but he stumbled, his legs crumpling as he fell to his knees.

And then he roared out his agony as everything went red.

~*~

Peter was ready to die, ready to join the sister and niece that he'd failed so much.

"Ah, Peter," a voice said in his head. "My dad, he um… he says to get your ass up and out of that house."

"Stiles?"

"Yeah," the kid said telepathically. "He also says to consider it an order from your alpha."

"He's not my alpha," Peter said, even as he gently lowered Laura's body onto the ground beside her mother's and turned to make his way up the stairs.

"Oh, yeah," Stiles said, sounding like the smart-ass nine-year-old that he was currently in this timeline. " _I'm_ your alpha. So get your ass out here and stop freaking my dad out. I haven't seen him this upset since my mom died."

"I'm coming to you," Peter said, moving faster when he realized how much of the house was on fire. Every fire truck in Beacon Hills was coming down the road, lights and sirens blazing. He hurried to the join the group of people surrounding Noah's patrol vehicle. He pressed a hand to Stiles's shoulder on the way past, grinning as he said telepathically, "Thank you for coming to save me."

"Anytime," Stiles said earnestly, silently into his mind. "Now go hug my dad before he passes out."

"Of course," Peter replied telepathically, moving into Noah's embrace as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Don't scare me like that again," Noah said, tightening his arms.

"I won't," Peter promised as he held onto Noah and watched the fire brigade get to work.

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

"They were able to save most of the house from the fire," Uncle Peter said, taking a seat next to Derek on the sofa. "But pretty much everything has smoke and water damage."

"Can we fix it?"

Uncle Peter nodded. "Eventually. The engineers will need to check for structural damage, but we'll rebuild it."

"Mom and Laura?" Derek asked. He actually wanted to know if the firefighters had found the bodies, but he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. Fortunately Uncle Peter understood what he was asking and shook his head.

"They didn't find them." Which meant they hadn't found the secret entrances to the tunnels, thank the goddess. Uncle Peter put an arm around Derek's shoulders and pulled him closer. "I'll go back in a couple days and clean up."

"Thank you," he said, leaning into his uncle's embrace. "I never expected to be the alpha."

"I know," Uncle Peter said. "But I promise you'll have time to grow into it. And you'll have help. Me and your Dad and yo—"

"Dad wants to take Cora and go back to his old pack."

"Is that why you wanted to stay with me instead of the rest of the pack at the hotel?"

Derek nodded against his uncle's shoulder. "I'll miss Cora, but Dad and I have never been close."

He didn't need to explain that to his uncle. It was pretty common in a pack as large as theirs for the adults to share responsibility for raising the children. Being the offspring of the alpha simply meant Derek and his siblings were shuffled around more than most thanks to their parents' responsibilities taking priority.

"Uncle Peter," Derek said, trying to put the confusing thoughts in his head into words that made sense, "I can sort of feel the others. It's kind of like an urge in the back of my mind, a need to protect and provide. Is that what Mom felt?"

"Probably," Uncle Peter said, seeming to choose his words carefully. "It's instinct. It'll guide you and help you make wise decisions, but it's not a compulsion. You can ignore it if you want to. You don't have to listen to it every time or even at all."

"That doesn't sound like being a good alpha."

"You're right," Uncle Peter agreed. "An alpha who ignores that instinct has the potential to make selfish, self-serving decisions, usually to the detriment of their pack."

"I want to be a good alpha."

"I know," Peter said, smoothing his hand over Derek's head the way Derek's mom used to do.

"But with you it feels different," Derek said, worried that he really was doing this alpha thing all wrong. "I can't feel you the way I can sense the others."

"That's because I'm not actually part of your pack," Uncle Peter admitted after a long silence. "I have a different alpha."

"Who?" Derek asked worriedly. The only other alphas he'd met were Satomi—the stinky tea lady—and Deucalion—the creepy blind guy. At least Satomi seemed sane.

"He's not a werewolf."

"Deputy Stilinski?" Derek asked, scrunching up his face in disbelief. "I thought he was your boyfriend, not your alpha."

"He's not my alpha," Peter said, shrugging enough for Derek to feel the movement rather than see it. "Stiles is."

"Huh? That weird little freak? He trips over his own feet, for fuck's sake." Derek sat up and gave his uncle a hard look. "You're messing with me, right?"

"Nope," Uncle Peter said, moving to grab the pillows and blanket that he'd placed on the side table earlier. "I can tell you without a shadow of doubt that he will grow into the most incredible young man I've ever known. And his mate will be just as amazing."

Derek startled at the word "mate" but didn't deny it.

"How did you know?"

"Experience," Uncle Peter said, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

"He's nine," Derek said in a low, tight voice, "and I'm… I'm broken."

"Derek," Uncle Peter said, moving to sit next to him again, "you're not broken. You're traumatized. What Kate did…" His uncle swallowed and shook his head slowly. "I'm so sorry I didn't notice what was happening until it was too late."

"It was my fau—"

"No," Uncle Peter said sharply, cutting off the words that had been running through Derek's mind all day. "You're fifteen. And you were grieving for Paige. You were vulnerable and Kate took advantage of that. None of this was your fault. Do you hear me, Derek? None of it!"

Derek practically dived into his uncle's embrace as the emotions he'd been holding back all day came bursting out. He couldn't contain the violent sobs for everything he'd lost.

"I promise you, Derek," Uncle Peter whispered, "that we will find a way through this." He rocked gently, soothing Derek as if he was a little kid and not a fifteen-year-old fuck up. "I'm not part of your pack right now, but I will always be your uncle. And I will always, _always_ protect you. We'll find a counselor in the know and Noah and I will help you through it. Okay?"

"Okay," Derek managed to whisper as the painful sobs finally abated. He sat up and wiped his eyes in embarrassment. "Don't tell Stiles."

"That he's your mate?"

Derek nodded, looking away as shame washed over him. Even if Uncle Peter said what happened with Kate wasn't Derek's fault, it didn't mean nothing happened. There was no way in hell Derek was going to burden Stiles with the knowledge that Derek's wolf side thought they were destined to be partners.

And, Derek suspected, that once he was old enough to see everything that had happened from an adult perspective he wouldn't even want to be in the same room with Stiles until the kid was at least eighteen.

"Get some sleep," Peter said, easing Derek sideways until his head was resting on a pillow. "We'll talk more in the morning."

Derek nodded in acknowledgment even as exhaustion caught up with him and sleep took him down.

~*~

"Dad, can I use your computer?"

"Not tonight," Noah said, trying to herd his kid toward the stairs and up to his bedroom.

"But I have so many questions. I need to research."

"Maybe tomorrow," Noah said with a soft huff, "but I'm pretty sure you're not going to find the information you want on the Internet."

"Dad," Stiles said, rolling his eyes as if his old man was a dinosaur, "the Internet has _everything_."

"Exactly," Noah said, pointing toward the bathroom in his usual "brush your teeth" movement that he hadn't actually had the need to use in fifteen or so years. Stiles nodded, grabbed his tooth brush and toothpaste, and continued talking even while brushing.

His kid.

Noah grinned, watching his son in the mirror as he talked and flailed and accidentally spat toothpaste foam everywhere. Yeah, second time around he was not going to miss a moment of his son's life.

_Three days later_ …

"I've spread the rumor that Laura and her substitute teacher have run off together and Talia has gone to try and find them," Peter said from his position on the sofa in Noah's living room.

Noah didn't even bother to be surprised that the werewolf had let himself into Noah's locked house. Instead he just nodded his agreement, not as uncomfortable with the necessary subterfuge as he thought he would be. Perhaps all those years running from hunters really had grown the pragmatic side of him.

"And the clean up?"

Peter smirked. "I was always very good at that part of my job."

Yeah, there were some details Noah did not need to know. "What about the library?" he asked, mainly because Stiles hadn't stopped talking about it since he'd learned what sort of books the Hale pack had kept in there.

"Everything stinks of smoke, but no water damage."

Noah nodded in relief. "I guess we're lucky Kate didn't decide to start the fire in there. All that dry paper would have gotten the fire going much faster."

"That had never been her plan," Peter said sounding quite certain. "Kate was always about the fear. She got off on the buildup, on the escalation of terror."

"Yeah," Noah agreed. "I think that's what the spirals were about too."

"Spirals?" Peter asked, apparently having missed that part during the fire.

Noah pulled a few photos from the folder he was holding and handed them to Peter. "The arson investigator found a network of soft plastic tubing secured in intricate patterns to the roof. He wrote it off as some weird form of artwork or religious belief—your family apparently has the reputation for being a little strange."

Peter rolled his eyes. "And I should care what strangers think because…?" he asked in a flat tone.

"Anyway, since they were empty—looks like Stiles pulled the mountain ash straight through the airtight tubing like it wasn't even there—the investigator didn't consider them worth his time," Noah said, trying to get the conversation back on track. "If you look at the photos in relation to the rest of the house, I think the spirals were all placed over the exits. They'd probably been there for months but with the tubes being airtight and the outer perimeter not quite complete it didn't activate until Kate slid the final piece into place."

"And then Laura chased the children into them knowing they'd have nowhere to go when they reached the middle of the spiral."

"Yeah," Noah said, "but that didn't happen in this timeline. We stopped Laura getting to them." He moved to sit beside Peter. "I know it's not quite the outcome we'd been hoping for, but we saved everyone else."

"We did," Peter said, leaning against Noah's chest. Damn it felt weird to be back in a younger body—good, but weird. Noah wrapped his arm around Peter, resting his hand on his collarbone as he pressed a soft kiss to the werewolf's temple. Peter slid his hand into Noah's and sighed. "I still can't believe Deaton just gave you wolfsbane."

"I didn't really given him a choice," Noah admitted, not exactly proud of the way he'd pushed Deaton into his back room and had demanded access to wolfsbane for his bullets. As usual the enigmatic little prick had smiled serenely and handed over a vile of purple oil and a small pouch of ash made from the same strain. He hadn't even asked if Noah knew how to use them. He also hadn't bothered to ask who Noah intended to use them on despite being the emissary for the local pack.

As usual the creepy fucker hadn't done anything wrong enough for Noah to consider him an enemy, but he also hadn't done anything truly right. He'd acted like a neutral player in a conflict that didn't touch him. Noah was already considering calling in the business inspector or the tax office just because the guy annoyed him so much.

And yeah, apparently Peter's influence was a little stronger than Noah had realized. He hugged the werewolf closer and decided life could be worse.

"I understand Laura's motivations. I know why she did what she did," Peter said, deep regret in his tone.

Noah knew how much it bugged Peter to have missed the signs that his niece was being influenced by outside forces, but he also knew how little Talia had respected the role of the left hand in a werewolf pack. More often than not she'd dismissed Peter's advice and concerns as the product of his bloodthirsty imagination. And she'd used her position as the alpha to force Peter to drop lines of inquiry that may or may not have helped them realize what was happening to both Laura and Derek.

The stories had come out piecemeal and incomplete over the years, but Noah had filled in enough details to worry that he would have had a hard time liking Talia if she'd lived.

"In retrospect it's far too easy to see how vulnerable Laura and Derek were, how much they needed their pack to protect them from such dangerous influences." Peter sighed softly. "They were the alpha's kids. They should have been watched more closely, not less."

Noah shook his head. "We're talking about the arrogance of youth versus the master manipulations of experienced schemers like Kate Argent and Deucalion," Noah said, trying to ignore the memory of Scott letting the guy walk away despite everything he'd done and everyone who was dead because of him and his fucked-up beliefs. "Even if Talia had been paying better attention chances are she still wouldn't have noticed."

"Yeah." Peter growled softly. "We still need to deal with Deucalion."

"We will," Noah assured him, settling more comfortably onto the sofa.

They stayed quiet for a while, enjoying the unexpected chance to just be together.

"I never got to ask Talia about Malia or the nemeton," Peter said eventually. "We'll find Malia and keep her safe—I know we will—but I'll never know why my sister stole my memories of her."

"Oh," Noah said, embarrassed that he'd forgotten. "I have a um…" Noah grabbed the file folder he'd been holding earlier and extracted the thick envelope. "Derek and his dad opened the safe. The one in Talia's office. This was in there. It's addressed to you."

Peter took it, his hand shaking slightly as he set the envelope on the coffee table.

But instead of leaning back again, he turned, lifted onto his knees, and straddled Noah's lap.

"It can wait one more day."

"True," Noah said, smiling when Peter leaned in to kiss him softly.

"When does my tiny alpha get home?" Peter asked against Noah's lips.

"Couple hours yet," Noah answered in between kisses that quickly grew heated.

"We never talked about it," Peter mumbled breathlessly. "About us. About our relationship."

"Do we need to?" Noah asked, placing his hands on Peter's hips and urging him closer. They both moaned when their hard cocks brushed together.

"Hell no," Peter said with a soft groan. "Take me to bed, my love."

Noah chuckled and pressed another hard, hot kiss to Peter's lips. "I'm not carrying you. You're not a Disney princess."

"I could carry you," Peter suggested.

"Hell, no!" Noah growled, pushing Peter to his feet and then taking the hand the werewolf offered him. "This is a Disney Princess free house."

"At least until we track down Chris Argent."

"One day I'll tell him you said that," Noah said on a laugh. "Now get upstairs before I change my mind."

They both knew that wasn't going to happen.

Peter grinned, kissed him hard, whispered, "I love you," and then turned and used his supernatural speed to race up the stairs.

"I love you, too," Noah said, knowing that his werewolf would always hear him.

Epilogue

Peter stayed for dinner, glad for the chance to share a meal with his alpha before he officially took over the responsibilities of being Derek's guardian. Derek's father and most of the distant cousins and their families had been rattled by the attack on the Hale pack and had pretty much decided to tuck tail and run. Peter didn't blame them. He'd already lived through it once. Beacon Hills was a nightmare just waiting to happen over again.

And to be honest he was glad to have them out of the way.

But it had hurt Derek, especially when a couple of their older packmates had used a fifteen-year-old alpha and traumatized victim of abuse as an excuse for their cowardice. Peter had gone very close to tearing out a few extra throats during that pack meeting.

He was still pretty pissed at the rampant victim blaming, but he also knew Derek would be far happier without packmates who couldn't see past their own fear.

Peter listened as Noah wished his son good night and then came down the stairs. He walked into the room, gave Peter a contented smile, and headed for the sofa. Peter joined him the moment his lover got comfortable.

~*~

When Noah noticed the untouched envelope still sitting on the coffee table he tried to ignore it, but as had been common when they'd been on the run in the other timeline, Peter sensed his discomfort and reacted to it. He knew Noah hated not knowing things. In that respect he and Stiles were very much alike.

Peter growled softly and leaned over to snag the envelope and then slit it open with a wickedly sharp claw.

Noah looked away despite being able to see the typed pages over Peter's shoulder. He assumed Peter knew that and was essentially giving him permission to read them, but he'd rather Peter have a chance to change his mind depending on what he found inside.

"They're adoption papers," Peter said, sounding perplexed. "Two sets."

" _Two_ sets?" Noah asked, wondering what sort of not-quite-legal shenanigans he was about to get dragged into. "Twins?"

"One set for Malia Tate," Peter said, placing the near-identical sets of documents side by side on the coffee table. "And one set for Jackson Whittemore."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Part One is finished but, wow, all those changes to the timeline means that my creative muse is going crazy with more plots and ideas and people to save and situations to remake and... and... and... Yeah, I surrendered without a fight this time (we all know I was going to lose) and started on Part Two. Hopefully I'll be able to start posting that in a few days.


End file.
